


all the world is made of faith

by allyourdarlings



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Captain Book friendship, Captain Swan - Freeform, Captain Swan AU - Freeform, Cursed!Killian, Episode: s01e01 Pilot, F/M, Gen, OUAT - Freeform, Pre-Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan, Season 2 AU, Storybrooke, enchanted forest, season 1 AU, season 1 rewrite
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-18 21:33:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 24,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5943865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allyourdarlings/pseuds/allyourdarlings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"All the world is made of faith, and trust, and pixie dust." Killian Jones has faith that he will find his happy ending in the Land Without Magic – so he takes a ride on the Evil Queen's Dark Curse. Season 1 Rewrite with Cursed! Killian. Captain Swan romance / Captain Book friendship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. welcome to storybrooke

Emma wakes to an all too familiar setting.  Steel bars, stone walls, grey ceiling.  Her body tenses, her heart seizes, until she realizes she’s not in her old jail cell.  _What the hell happened last night?_ she wonders as she takes in her surroundings.  There was a wolf in the road, the Storybrooke sign and then...

 

“Rise and shine, princess,” a snarky voice says nearby.

 

Emma rolls over on the thin cot and places her feet on the floor. She looks over at the woman in the next cell who is eyeing her through heavy smudged makeup.  Emma might have called her pretty if she didn’t have such a miserable expression on her face.

 

“What’s the matter with you?” she snarks back.

 

The other woman merely snaps her gum loudly at her.

 

“Don’t mind Lacey.” 

 

Emma’s head snaps toward the cell doors.  She expects to see the town sheriff but instead, she is greeted by the bluest set of eyes she’s ever seen.  Her stomach swoops unexpectedly and she tries to say something, _anything_ , really but she can’t seem to do anything but stare.

 

“Are you alright, love?”  Before she can respond, the man looks down and shakes his head.  “What am I saying?  Of course you’ve had a rough night.”

 

“Umm…” he continues, biting his lower lip as he pries open a cardboard box resting in the crook of his left elbow.  “Pop-Tart?” he asks as he tilts the open box towards her.

 

Emma does not believe in stars aligning or fairytale endings – _but_ , seriously, Pop-Tarts?  She leans forward and eyes them.  They are frosted blueberry, her _favorite_.  “I love you.”

 

She barely recognizes that she has spoken out loud until she sees him straighten and stare at her intently. Emma freezes – she knows people say things like love flippantly all the time – but she’s not one of _those_ people.  It is like her subconscious has betrayed her.  _Over Pop-Tarts_.  She should wave her words off but she can’t.  She has been pulled into the depth of his eyes, caught in his stormy gaze.  Until she hears that woman again in the neighboring cell.  “Killian, don’t feed the squirrels.”

 

Emma shakes her head. Emma Swan does not swoon over men, no matter how handsome they are.  She doesn’t even know where these stupid metaphors in her head are popping in from but they need to stop.

 

“No need to be rude, Lacey,” Killian is saying.  The woman merely snorts.  “And I feed you.”  As if to prove it, he reaches into the box and tosses her a Pop-Tart. It sails through two sets of bars to land perfectly on the cot, right in front of Lacey.

 

Emma can’t help but blink in surprise. “That’s quite a throw,” she murmurs.

 

Killian looks down again and scratches nervously behind his ear.  “Lots of practice,” he offers humbly.  “Here,” he says, tilting the box of Pop-Tarts towards her again without looking up.

 

Emma wonders at the blush sweeping his cheeks.  He seems to be a strange dichotomy of shy and intense.  It’s probably a good thing they aren’t awkwardly staring at each other still.

 

“Thanks,” she says as she reaches out to claim her prize.  She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until he offered her the Pop-Tarts.  She never had dinner last night.  She didn’t even have time to enjoy her cupcake when Henry knocked on her door.

 

As though reading her mind, Killian says, “So, you are Henry’s mother?”

 

“Huh?” she says around a mouthful of Pop-Tart.

 

He kindly ignores her inelegance and continues as though she had responded with some dignity.  “How lovely it is for him to have you back in his life, love.”

 

“Actually I was just dropping him off.  And it’s Emma, Emma Swan. Not love.”

 

“Ah, a tough lass,” he replies with admiration before averting his gaze again.  He pauses for a moment.  “Henry’s a special boy.  I think you would like him very much if you stayed.”

 

“Look…” She begins but decides she doesn’t need to explain herself to a stranger.  “Do you work at the sheriff station?  Think you could let me out?”

 

Killian looks extremely apologetic as he shakes his head.  “Sorry, I’m just here to pick up Lacey but Graham should be here any minute now.” He pushes the sleeve back on his left arm to look down at his watch.  His movement causes her to look down and she notices that his left hand is a prosthetic. 

 

She looks up to see that she’s been caught staring.  “Sorry…I…” she begins when she sees him blush again and pull his left arm behind his body.  “Hey–”

 

“He’s usually in by eight-fifteen,” he says too fast. 

 

As if Graham had been waiting to make the perfect entrance, he walks in.  “Lacey, if I’m going to let you out, you’re going to have to behave.  Put on a smile.”

 

Lacey gives Graham a wide insincere smile as she walks out of her cell.  She reaches for Killian’s fake hand behind his back and pulls him with her.  “C’mon, you’re going to buy me a coffee.”

 

Killian twists around to look at Emma once more. Before Lacey pulls him around the corner, his piercing blue eyes find hers and he says to her, “Welcome to Storybrooke, Swan.”


	2. somewhere a clock is ticking

Emma is rushing down the hallways of Storybrooke Elementary when she collides with Killian Jones.  They end up in an odd dance of flailing and tangled limbs as they try to keep their balance.  Killian barely maintains hold of his cup holder while she has to readjust her grip on Henry’s storybook. 

 

“Are you following me?” she demands once they manage not to pull each other on to the floor.

 

Killian gives her a bewildered look.  “I did not expect to see you here.”

 

“Well, why are you here?” she asks, crossing her arms over Henry’s book and scowling at him.  He has no right to be just around the corner.

 

“Because I work here?” he responds, one eyebrow inching up his forehead.

 

“Oh…oh, well.”  Okay, well maybe he does have a right to be here. “Well, I have to get going.  I need to find Henry.” 

 

She steps around him but he pivots and follows her.

 

“Has the lad run off again?” he asks, concern evident in his blue eyes.

 

“Um, yeah,” she says, thrown off by the sincerity in his expression.  “Mary Margaret, Henry’s teacher…” Emma shakes her head.  “Well, you work here so you probably know that’s Henry’s teacher.”

 

“Aye,” he nods.

 

“Well, Mary Margaret says I can find him at his castle.”

 

“Quite likely.”

 

Even as she is rushing out of the door, she can see him hesitating to say something else.

 

“What is it?” she asks as she exits the school and hangs a right. She really doesn’t have time for this and she doesn’t like being followed around.

 

“I could take you there.  You’re going the wrong way in any case.”

 

Emma huffs in frustration and turns left.  “Don’t you need to be at…I don’t know, work?”

 

“I have a free period.”

 

“A free period?  What do you teach?  Recess?” she snarks at him.

 

She doesn’t do things with other people.  She works best alone.  So she doesn’t usually care about hurt feelings and paper cuts if it means she is left alone.  But then he is falling half a step behind her and his shoulders move in as though he is shrinking at her tone.  He probably is.

 

“No,” he mumbles and coughs, “I’m just the school librarian,” as though he’s ashamed.

 

Emma sighs.  So, it’s not a glamorous job but she doesn’t quite understand why he looks like a kicked puppy.  There’s probably a story there, not that she wants to hear it at all.  And not that her usual bedside manner would make her a good listener. But the man did give her a Pop-Tart this morning and well, no one’s ever given her a Pop-Tart.  _Get over the Pop-Tart_ , she says to herself.

 

But okay, maybe she can work on her people skills sometimes too.

 

“Well, are you going to give me one of those coffees and lead the way or what?” _Right_ , that wasn’t much better.  In fact, it’s worse.

 

But _somehow_ , it seems to perk him up and he offers one of the cups in the holder.  “My car is this way,” he says.

 

“You can drive?”

 

 _Really, Emma_? she says to herself.  So she’s really out of practice with her people skills but in her defense, she hadn’t cared too much about them, nor needed them – at least, not after _everything_.  He’s frozen in front of her and she isn’t surprised at all when he finally says, “let’s walk” instead without turning around.

 

Not sure what to say, she just murmurs a quiet “yeah” and takes a sip of her coffee.  Only, it’s not coffee.  It’s cocoa and whipped cream and cinnamon and the feeling of home and belonging and _this is not real_.

 

“Hot cocoa with cinnamon?” she asks in disbelief.

 

He turns back, a slightly horrified look on his face.  “Oh, oh…uh, I apologize, Swan.  I gave you Mary Margaret’s drink.”  He looks down at the drink in his cup holder.  “Here, have mine.”  He tilts the cup towards her to take.

 

“No, no, it’s fine,” she says, reflexively gripping the cup.  “I’ve already been drinking this. It’s just…”

 

“Aye, the cinnamon.  It’s different, isn’t it?  One of Mary Margaret’s quirks.” 

 

Emma nods absentmindedly as they resume walking.  She’s never met anyone with _her_ quirk before.  Except, maybe it’s not her quirk at all.  Nothing special about her, just orphan Emma with nothing to her name.

 

“Why aren’t you drinking your coffee?” she asks after a moment, not wanting to get too lost in her own thoughts.  “Are you just going to carry around the drink holder?”

 

Killian coughs.  “I can’t really take the cup out while…  Well, you can only do so much with one hand.”

 

Emma frowns at her cup as they fall into another awkward silence of their own making – _her_ making, really.  It seems to stretch tighter and tighter as they get further and further away from the school and closer to the water. 

 

She finds herself thinking about her drink again and eventually, she blurts out, “Do you believe in fate?”  She doesn’t know why she even asks.  She doesn’t.  She doesn’t.  Not really.

 

He frowns a bit and presses his lips together.  She doesn’t think he will respond until he finally says, “Uh…aye, I suppose I do.”

 

“You suppose?  You don’t sound so sure,” she finds herself saying.  She really needs to work on her friendly tone.  If she has one.

 

“I…” he hesitates, biting at his lip.  “I don’t believe in coincidences,” he finally says.

 

“Ooookay, now you’re talking in a circle because that sounds a lot like believing in fate.”  She did say that in a nicer tone, didn’t she?  Probably not.

 

Killian is just shaking his head though, not hunching into himself like before, so she thinks maybe, it was okay. 

 

“It’s easier to believe in fate, to believe that the cards fall where they may and you aren’t in control of what happens.  But that’s, that’s like giving yourself an excuse. Fate may happen, or whatever generalization you’ve assigned for what happens to you, but it’s up to you to chart your own destiny.  You just have to fight.”

 

Emma snorts.  “That’s not as easy as it sounds.”

 

“I didn’t say it was easy, Swan.  But it doesn’t mean it isn’t simple.”

 

Emma pauses and realizes she has to give him some credit.  She had wanted to roll her eyes at him for using a word like “destiny” but she thinks she gets what he means.  “So, what are you fighting for?”

 

Even though he’s not looking directly at her, he looks a little lost.  Maybe even a lot lost.  And he walks a little faster.  “The castle is close by,” he says instead.  And she sees it, a wooden playground structure on a small stretch of beach, and a small lonely figure. 

 

Just another lonely figure in this harsh world. 

 

“Look, Swan, you may not believe in the curse –” he mutters next to her.

 

“And _you_ do?”

 

“I didn’t say that.  Not that it matters if I believe or not.  But Emma.”  And the use of her name really gets her attention. “Henry does.  A child’s faith and trust in you is like magic.  It’s pure and it’s beautiful.  But it is fragile and once it’s broken, it won’t be the same.”  It sounds like he’s speaking from experience and it makes her heart ache because she has had that experience too.  “Just, be careful.  He’s ten and he’s lonely.  Don’t tear down his castle all at once, aye?”

 

“I’m no savior, you know,” she sighs.

 

“You don’t need to be.  Just be there for him.” 

 

And somehow, she finds assurance when his blue eyes finally connect with hers.

 

***

 

She’s restless.  The wallpaper isn’t the only dated item in the room she’s booked at the local inn.  She can’t find a decent channel on the boxed TV set and she doesn’t want to think about curses and happy endings and parents and a _son_.  She gets another weather channel and she throws her hands up in the air.  Maybe what she needs is a walk. 

 

She grabs her red leather jacket and is down the stairs and out of the entrance in moments. 

 

She takes Main Street down and is soon where she was last night when she came to Storybrooke.  Instead of the bespectacled therapist with his dog, she finds the handsome school librarian, standing in the middle of the street, looking up at the clock tower.  

 

“What are you doing out here?” she calls once she’s close enough.

 

He turns to look at her.  “Following me, Swan?” he asks as he arches an eyebrow at her.

 

“You’re the one standing at an intersection.  One of the few they have in this quaint little town.  Someone is bound to run into you.  Or a car,” she thinks with a frown as she pulls him by his collar to the sidewalk.

 

“I didn’t know you cared,” he grins at her.  “Look at you, already saving people.”

 

It’s slightly flirty and he actually makes eye contact with her.  He seems far bolder than he was earlier today and a wayward shot of electricity runs down her spine.  She shakes her head.  She promised Henry she would stay a week – just for him – not for anyone else.  She can’t be here for anyone else.

 

“I just happened to come across you.”

 

“Perhaps it’s fate,” he breathes.

 

And it’s too much for Emma.  She doesn’t do soft and intimate with strangers, with _anyone_ , and she’s only just noticed she’s still holding onto his collar.  “Ha, ha,” she says with as much sarcasm as she can muster as she lets go and steps back.

 

“I’ve decided to stay.  For Henry,” she tells him, to change the topic, to remind herself of all of the above. 

 

“I know.  For a week.”

 

She squints at him.  “How do you know already? I mean, I get it, small town, but _really_?”

 

Killian points to the clock tower above them.  “The clock’s been broken for as long as I remember. It’s restarted though. Must have been some decision you’ve made.”

 

“Right, because I’m charting my own destiny,” she scowls at him.

 

“Aye, that’s the spirit, Swan,” Killian smiles before he tips his head towards her and then turns, walks down the road and disappears into the night.


	3. i know this story

Emma looks up when she hears a knock on her car window.  Killian Jones is holding a to-go cup and what promises to be a greasy dinner.  She should really send him away.  She doesn’t trust displays of generosity.  Someone always wants something, has an ulterior motive, expects to be paid back in return.  _Only_ , Killian doesn’t look like he even expects her to let him in from the cold.  He’s about to place the brown bag from Granny’s on her hood when she reaches over and unlocks her passenger door.

 

“I’m not sure your salary can support both my bail and my meals,” she says to him as she motions for him to come in.

 

He shuffles a bit until she repeats the motion.  “I didn’t have to post bail for Lacey this morning,” he says once he slides in.  “It’s a first as far as I can remember.”

 

“Hmm,” she replies as she digs into her jean pocket to pull out some crumbled bills.  She grimaces at the wrinkled sweaty mess but hands it to him anyway.

 

“No, no, I can’t take that,” he says as he backs himself into the corner of his seat like she’s pressuring him to take a gateway drug.

 

“Look, Pop-Tart aside, I don’t really accept... _things_ ,” she says, gesturing at the brown bag and hot drink between them.  “I’m paying for this.”

 

He is still insistent, shaking his head at her.  “I would get anyone dinner who needs it.”

 

“I’m sure you would but I’m very capable of getting my own dinner,” she counters, waving the bills in front of him again.

 

“Is this why you are out here by yourself so late at night?”

 

“No, I’m out here…um, because…” This was a messy story she didn’t want to tell.

 

“I know, Ruby told me about the room.  Doesn’t explain why you haven’t purchased your supper if you are so very capable.”

 

Emma can’t help but raise an eyebrow at him.  There’s a definite edge of sarcasm in his response that she didn’t expect.  Killian has surprised her since the beginning but she’s still pretty good at reading people.  It might mean the shy librarian is getting comfortable with her.  He has sort of integrated himself in her life rather quickly; though, this is the first time their encounter isn’t just incidental.

 

She stares at him in what she thinks is an intimidating way but this time, he just shrugs at her.

 

“Okay, okay, smartass,” she finally concedes.  The smell of crispy onion rings is hard to ignore for much longer anyway.  “But I’m buying the Pop-Tarts tomorrow morning.”

 

The corners of Killian’s mouth lift in a small smile.  “Then we are in accord.  It’s a date, love.”

 

Ah, and _there_ it is.  What he’s been angling for with his Pop-Tarts and hot cocoa and onion rings and damn, what looks like a grilled cheese sandwich.  She should’ve known.  Not that she isn’t flattered, the man is striking with his piercing blue eyes, dark hair and high cheekbones.  But he’s not her type – she likes a man with scruff –and she’s not here to find her prince charming.  She’s here for her son.

 

“Look, Killian, it’s not a date.”

 

“Oh, oh, no no of course not,” he replies, eyes wide.  “I didn’t mean it like that, of course not.  It was just a matter of speech,” he explains, his hand and prosthetic held up as in protest. 

 

She can see that he’s not lying.  He hadn’t meant to imply it would be a date _date_.  And not that she wants to date him – because, of course, she doesn’t – but okay, he doesn’t have to protest that vehemently. 

 

“Alright, I believe you,” she says before he goes on and bruises her ego further.

 

Killian finally puts his arms down.  “Yeah, I mean, why would _you_ go on a date with me?” he mutters lowly.

 

Emma frowns at his question.  She’s not sure if she was supposed to hear it but she did.

 

“I should go,” he says louder, confirming which remark was meant for her and which wasn’t.  He starts fumbling for the door handle but his hand is trembling, frustrating him in his simple task.

 

Emma sighs and places a hand on his arm to stop him.  She may not want to date him – or acknowledge that she has to constantly remind herself that she doesn’t – but she’s been where he is.  She understands not feeling good enough, feeling the need to run.  Though she doesn’t quite understand why he feels the way he does – he’s sort of awkward, shy and a bit down on himself, but he’s also drop-dead gorgeous and kind and likeable.  “Hey, I could use the company if you don’t mind.  And some help eating all these onion rings.”

 

Killian doesn’t turn towards her but sits back after a moment.  “I really doubt you need help with those onion rings,” he finally says.

 

Emma snorts.  She should tell him off for that remark but he’s already seen her pack away onion rings earlier that day and it shows her that he’s back to that level of comfort he displayed earlier. 

 

She digs into her meal but makes small talk with him.  It’s kind of comfortable and nice.

 

“Thank you for posting bail today, too,” she says suddenly, remembering she hadn’t said that earlier.  “You really shouldn’t go around posting bail and buying all this food and drinks for people.  They are going to take advantage of you.”

 

“It was my pleasure, love.  And you don’t have to worry about me.  I really only cover for Lacey.”

 

“You and Lacey make an odd couple,” she remarks.  She kind of wants to dig into that relationship.  She figures Killian probably does anything that woman tells him to do and she feels a surge of protectiveness at that thought.

 

“We’re not a couple,” Killian says the same way he had said that Pop-Tarts didn’t equate a date.

 

It is mildly gratifying to Emma.  

 

“Oh, I know,” Emma says around a bite of grilled cheese.  She doesn’t know how Killian would handle that much eyeliner.  “I just meant you two don’t even seem like you would be friends.”  She doesn’t say _should_ though that’s what she really means.

 

“Uh, well, we’ve known each other forever,” Killian mumbles quietly.  He is looking out her window and scratching his ear.

 

Didn’t she tell herself just yesterday that she didn’t want to hear his story?  She sighs though because she kind of does.  She feels like she would know it, understand it.  And she thinks since she’s here anyway, maybe she can get Killian to break away from a bad, one-way friendship.

 

“Alright, out with it,” she says to him.

 

“Hmmm?” he says, not even turning towards her.

 

“You have something on your mind.  I can tell.”

 

“Really?” he asks, surprised.

 

“Uh huh,” she says.  “You’re like an open book to me.” 

 

“Is that so?” he hums before changing the subject.  “Are you going to stay in your car all week?”

 

She narrows her eyes at him but he’s not looking at her.  She’s going to have to find out some other way.  “I don’t have many options,” she finally answers, waving her hand in the direction of Granny’s though he can’t see.  “It’s alright,” she shrugs, “it’s nothing I haven’t done before.”

 

“Mary Margaret told me she offered you a room at her loft.  That seems like an option.”

 

“Get around much?” Emma raises her brows at him.

 

Killian blushes and picks up an onion ring.  She suspects he’s more interested in a distraction than eating it.  “Not really.  People just talk.”

 

“Don’t I know it,” Emma replies, rolling her eyes.  “And why aren’t you in line to offer me your place?”

 

The tips of his cute little elf ears go pink and Emma can’t help but smirk.

 

“My place is rubbish actually.  No one would want to live with a cripple like–”

 

“Hey, hey, stop doing that to yourself, okay?” Emma protests. 

 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles in reply.  But there is no heart in it, there’s no agreement in his voice.

 

Emma takes Killian by the chin and turns him towards him.  Her thumb brushes his clean-shaven chin and he squirms under her gaze.  But she can also see him fighting to maintain eye contact and it makes her feel oddly proud of him.  “You are by far one of the most decent person I’ve ever met.  Don’t talk yourself down. And don’t let others make you feel like you’re anything less because of your hand.”  She thinks of her guffaws the other day.  “Like me, especially me.”

 

“But–”

 

“No buts.  It’s just a hand.”

 

Killian laughs darkly and pulls his chin out of her grip.  “Easy for you to say.”

 

“I’m not saying it’s easy to deal with but you don’t have to define yourself by it.  People are going to tell you who you are your whole life.  You just got to punch back and say, ‘No, this is who I am.’  You want people to look at you differently?  Make them.”

 

“Quite passionate, Swan,” he breathes.  He is quiet for a long time after and she thinks he’s just going to leave her car, no matter what she says about it.  Because he probably doesn’t believe people should look at him differently.  But he finally turns towards her again though his chin is buried in his shoulder, his eyes cast down.  “It’s not just the hand.  It’s the boating incident that caused it.  I…uh, my brother and his girlfriend died and I… it wasn’t on purpose, but Mr. Gold, my defense attorney, convinced me I should take a plea bargain.”

 

Emma grips Killian’s arm.  Hard.  She knows all about taking the fall for a crime you didn’t even commit.  She knows all about the failure of a criminal justice system that made it safer and more appealing to take a deal than fight for justice.  She knows – and now, she knows, that he knows all too well – how hard it is to fight for something that should be as simple as the truth.  She knows this story. 

 

“Lacey’s been there for me when other people haven’t,” he says after some silence.  “When things were rough and I was…you know, people thought I was a criminal when I had just lost everything I ever had.” 

 

Emma breathes in sharply.  She doesn’t believe in fate but maybe she doesn’t quite believe in coincidences either.

 

“She doesn’t care what other people think about her or anyone else.  And I’m grateful.  No one has stuck up for me since…” He trails off, thinking of past times, looking lost again.

 

“So you stick together?” she asks, her hand still on his arm.  She’s definitely rethinking her feelings about Lacey.

 

“Aye.”

 

“And you’re sticking with me, too?”

 

“Aye.” He looks up and makes eye contact.  “And you too.”

 

“Good” is all she can think of saying when she is looking into his eyes. 

 

(When she wakes the next day, he’s still there, sleeping in the seat beside her.  She takes the opportunity to nudge a Pop-Tart into his pocket.)


	4. as you wish

“Care to tell me why I’m constantly waking up with Pop-Tarts in my pocket?” Killian asks as he slides into the passenger seat of the patrol car.

 

“Care to tell me why you are always falling asleep in vulnerable positions?”

 

Killian flushes, as she suspects he would.  He reaches up to scratch behind his ear.  Also predictable.  She can’t help but smirk at him as she reaches for the to-go cup in the crook of his elbow.

 

“It’s Storybrooke,” he counters.  “I dare say I’m pretty safe.”

 

“I don’t know about that.  There’s evil queens and collapsed mines,” she replies, thinking of her first day as deputy.

 

“Aye, there’s that.  But there’s also a brilliant deputy protecting this town.  I wager she’ll protect me from danger.”

 

“Daring? Wagering?  What kind of gambler, are you?” she smirks at him.

 

“I like to think of myself more as a pirate, Swan.  Like Han Solo,” he says, straightening up in his seat.

 

“Han Solo?” Emma replies in surprise.  She has to press her lips together to stop herself from smiling.  And telling him that Han Solo is her favorite kind of pirate. 

 

“You’re a librarian,” she finally says, waving her drink in his direction.  “Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, referencing books instead of movies?”

 

“Oi, just because I live in a small town doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate pop culture!”

 

Emma smiles this time, glad her teasing hasn’t gone the wrong direction as it had earlier in their relationship.

 

“And who could resist Princess Leia?” he adds.

 

Emma snorts.  “I bet you like that gold bikini, huh?”

 

“The gold?” he splutters and Emma fears that she’s reminded him of his old defense attorney, Mr. Gold.  Killian had been out of his mind when she told him of the deal she made with Gold to save Ashley’s baby.  She and Mary Margaret actually had to hold Killian down to stop him from rushing over to the pawnshop to offer himself up instead like some sacrificial lamb.

 

“That’s an awful outfit, Swan,” he says, affecting a shudder.  “It’s degrading to the princess and all women.”

 

Emma raises an impressed brow. 

 

Killian raises one back at her.  “Of course I like her for her fierce mind, stubbornness and empathy.”  He gives her a half-teasing smile but his eyes are earnest. 

 

“Good,” she nods at him.

 

They fall into a comfortable silence as she directs the patrol car along the perimeter of the town.  She had been reluctant to stay in Storybrooke, mostly because she felt guilty about Henry and didn’t know what place she should have in his life, but she also thought that she couldn’t live a quiet life out here on the coast of Maine.  Now, she looks forward to these drives with Killian.  They are relaxing in a way her life had never been.

 

“Maybe we should have a picnic this weekend,” she says to him.  “The weather looks good.  And we could watch Star Wars at the loft with Henry.”

 

They’ve spent a lot of time together but none of them have been social events or with her son.  She knows Henry likes Killian, that sometimes, instead of going home, Henry will hang out at the school library to read or do his homework.  And apparently, listen to Killian spin tales. “He tells the _best_ stories.  But only when no one’s around,” Henry had said to her one day after Killian dropped him off at the station.

 

She can’t imagine Killian telling stories to her.  He can still be very shy and skittish on days that end with a ‘y’. But he’s also very earnest and caring and she knows if she’s ever feeling down, like Henry had been in the recent past, he would do anything to lift her spirits.  She wants to hear one of these stories, told in his deep enthralling brogue, but she also knows he’s not ready. Maybe as a first step they can share a timeless story of space adventure with her son. “I’m not sure if he’s seen it though.  Do you know?” she asks.

 

She waits a beat.  And then another.  And then frowns when Killian doesn’t say anything in response. She sneaks a glance at him and finds him asleep against the passenger window.  With a sigh, she pulls over.  

 

She’s already found him asleep at his desk at work and on a park bench of all places.  She had placed his jacket over his shoulders the first time.  The second time she had sat with him for a bit, until the sun began to set, and she had to wake him up and escort him to the docks.  He wouldn’t let her take him to his place but she saw him stumble towards some rundown units that seemed cobbled together with flat metal sheets.

 

She leans over him now so she can tuck her scarf between the window and his face.  Her frown deepens when she gets a closer look at him.  There are dark shadows under his eyes and his brow is furrowed even in sleep.  She finds herself brushing his fringe from his eyes and he stirs.

 

“Sorry,” she whispers as though speaking any louder would break some unknown spell.

 

Killian just blinks slowly at her as he tries to get his bearings.  She can’t help but watch as his dark lashes sweep his cheeks like butterfly wings.

 

“Fell asleep on you, didn’t I?” he finally says, his voice deep and husky with sleep, and making Emma’s mind go places they shouldn’t go.  “I believe that means I should be the one to apologize.”

 

“Hmph,” Emma manages.  “I’m the one who woke you,” she says after she clears her throat. 

 

Killian mumbles a token protest but he’s probably sincere.  He tries to sit upright but Emma gently pushes him back down while her other hand continues to stroke his hair.  “I think you should continue taking a nap.”

 

“It would be rude,” Killian almost whines.

 

“Care to tell me what’s keeping you up at night then?”

 

“Keeping me?”  Killian seems suddenly more alert.  “Uh,” he says as he scratches behind his ear.  “Nothing…there’s nothing…”

 

Emma sends him her patent glare.  “Nuh uh, you already know about my superpower.”

 

“I can’t really explain it…” Killian edges. 

 

She doesn’t back down, one hand still on his shoulder, the other in his hair, and her gaze unwavering.  He sighs when he realizes she’s not giving him an out this time.  “I’m having these strange dreams about my brother and uh…I guess… You see, I had this crush on Milah.  She was a few years older than me and of course, never gave me the time of day.  And he, Liam, could be a bit of an arse, and dated her because I was interested and well, because he could. ”

 

Emma scrunches her nose in distaste.  She does not like what she’s hearing about Liam’s treatment of his younger brother.  “But in my dreams, Milah was with me.  She wanted to be with me, she admired me,” he says like it is crazier than believing in a cursed town.  She wants to protest but knows if she interrupts, he won’t finish.

 

“And Liam was still an arse but it was different.  In the way it should be between brothers.  Their…deaths, were different in my dream too, but they felt real.  It was still all my fault.”  He shakes his head as though he can shake the images from his head.  Emma has the same habit.  She also knows how ineffective it is to get rid of something seared into your soul that way.  “I’m just having a hard time sleeping,” he finally finishes weakly, looking down and away from her.

 

She thinks of all the comforting things someone might say at this moment but they all sound rather empty.  “So am I,” she finally says as she starts stroking his hair again.

 

“Really?” he asks in a small voice that sounds like her past.

 

“Yeah, with that mining incident and everything that’s going on with Regina…”  It’s not even the same but he cares about other people and that’s enough to get him out of his own head.  “I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep since that night we fell asleep in the Bug together,” she continues.

 

Killian looks up, startled, and then turns a deep red.

 

Emma can’t help but blush, too.  She hadn’t realize it until she had said it – she hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep since they shared greasy onion rings and company and comfort that night in her Bug.  Mary Margaret’s place is nice and the bed softer for her back but Emma just doesn’t feel at home yet.

 

At the startling thought of home and what could and could not mean home to her, Emma lets go of Killian and sits back abruptly in her seat. 

 

She sees him eye her curiously but she turns away from him.  “Your free period is almost over.  We should head back.”  She starts the ignition and he doesn’t say anything on the drive back.  The silence is anything but comforting.

 

***

 

It’s one in the morning and Emma is still tossing and turning on the borrowed floral bedspread.  She sits up with a sigh and reaches for her glasses on the nightstand.  Her hand comes into contact with a book instead.  The book Killian left in the car.

 

Emma shakes her head.  What’s with Storybrooke citizens leaving books in her car anyway?

 

She meant to text him about the book but didn’t feel like contacting him after this afternoon.  She’s still a bit shaken by how she easily and unconsciously she associated _home_ with Killian.  She’s never even had a home so how would she even know what one feels like?  She clutches the book in her hands.  She’s done this fall before.  And she ended up alone, abandoned, in jail and pregnant.  She needs to give this book back to him.  Perhaps put some distance between them.  She’s not sure how long she’s staying anymore but she’s not staying that long, he can’t start depending on her and she can’t start depending on him.

 

She nods to herself.  She’ll give the book to Mary Margaret first thing in the morning.  That way, she won’t even have to see Killian.  And she’ll go out to patrol early, before his free period, so he can’t come ride with her.  She tosses the book towards her nightstand and it slides across the top and tumbles to the ground.  If it had been her book, she would’ve left it there but knowing how fastidious Killian generally is, she feels obligated to pick it up.  And thinking about how fastidious he is, she wonders if he turned over the entire school library looking for it. 

 

She sighs and picks up both the book and her phone.  She squints at the screen as she types out a message without the benefit of her glasses.  She could at least send him a text so he knows where the book is.  And it is too late for him to respond so, no big deal.

 

Except she get a response even before she can set her phone down.

 

_It’s a gift.  Keep it._

_Keep it? Doesn’t it belong to the school library?_  She types back, already forgetting that she hadn’t wanted to engage in a conversation with him.

 

_I know how much you like pirates. ;)_

 

Emma can’t help but laugh out loud.  She belatedly claps a hand over her mouth, hoping she hasn’t woken up Mary Margaret. 

 

_How do you know that?_

_Your eyes lit up when I mentioned Han Solo._

 

Emma bites her lower lip, touched that he’s so observant, that he pays attention.  Even he-who-must-not-be-named kept forgetting things about her.  She reaches for her glasses and turns on the lamp by the nightstand.   She takes a closer look at the book.  It looks well read but as she now suspects, there are no bar codes that indicate it actually belongs to the school.

 

She flips to the front cover and sees the book is called _The Princess Bride_.  She frowns.  She thinks she’s heard of it before, like people have heard of _Pride and Prejudice_ , but it certainly doesn’t sound like her kind of novel.  She doesn’t do princesses and fairytales.

 

Her phone vibrates in her hand and she looks down.

 

_Don’t let the title deter you, Swan.  I think you’ll find the pirate quite dashing._

 

Emma snorts.  _It will be better if you’d read it to me,_ she types out _._

Emma groans when she reads what she has just written.  She should not be conversing with anyone at this time at night.  She goes to delete the text when of course, she accidentally sends it instead.

 

 _As you wish,_ he responds immediately.

 

She lies back in her bed anticipating his call.  But he doesn’t.  This is the first time Killian hasn’t followed through and she tells herself, this is fine, what could she expect?  People just let her down.  She wanted to step away from him anyway.  So what if he’s sort of taking the first step?

 

But then she feels guilty for thinking poorly of Killian.  Mary Margaret had given her some more of Killian’s backstory, about how he was treated like a criminal when he was released, how he struggled to get a job, how he had been a painfully shy teen but had withdrawn even further into himself.

 

“He has a really big heart.  He feels so strongly.  But no one has ever given him the chance to be part of something.”

 

She can imagine him, a lanky shy kid with big dreams ( _so_ , _what are you fighting for?_ she had asked) but then crushed by the lost of his brother, haunted by the death of a childhood crush, left to fend for himself in the dusty shelves of a small town library, with the town drunkard as his only friend.

 

And now she wants to step away from him, thinks poorly of him, because well, she’s _afraid_. And why?  Because he has deep ocean blue eyes?  He’s not even her type.  They really could be friends.  He doesn’t have to be home. 

 

Before she can think any further on the matter, she hears a clatter in the alley below, just outside her window.  Her instincts kick in and she reaches in her drawer to grab her gun.  She slowly edges to the window, using her free hand to push her glasses up her nose.

 

When she looks out, she sees Killian Jones climbing up the fire escape to her window.  And he is surprisingly nimble.  As though he sneaks into women’s bedrooms all the time, she snorts to herself. 

 

She puts her gun down and pushes the lower pane of the window up so she can lean out.  “What the hell are you are doing?” she hisses when he is close enough.

 

He looks up and loses his footing for a moment.  She feels her heart jump into her throat but he just keeps climbing up until he’s level with her.  “You said it would be better if I read the book to you.”

 

She stares at him, not knowing what to say.  When people say they will do something, sometimes they won’t, sometimes they will, but they don’t do _this_.

 

As the silence stretches, he begins to look very unsure of himself.  “Uh…unless it was a joke?  I can just go.” 

 

He looks so insecure that she can’t help but put her hand out for him to take.  “No, no, I just thought you would call.”

 

“Oh, I gave you my only copy,” he explains as he climbs through the window like what he is doing is completely normal and not very John Cusack. 

 

“Nice glasses, Swan,” he says once he’s in her room.  The bastard is smirking, she notes with narrowed eyes.

 

Emma pushes him onto her bed.  “Shut up and start reading, pirate.”

 

“As you wish,” he chuckles.                                         

 

(When she wakes up the next day, the book is open on his chest and she is tucked into his side.  She thinks of pulling away but instead, she stays.)


	5. a language which is not made of words

They finished Princess Bride the night before so Emma doesn’t know if he will come tonight.  It’s not like it’s _planned_ or anything.  He just keeps climbing up her fire escape like it’s West Side Story.  Without snapping fingers and slicked-back hair.  Just shy grins and hair falling across too blue eyes. 

 

But they are done now.  Story told, the end, no plans for a sequel.  Emma shakes her head and gets off the bed.  She’s waiting around like some teenage girl.  That girl doesn’t exist anymore.  She grew up.  She was forced to grow up.  There’s no pirate voyaging across land and sea to take her away.    

 

She’s changing, her head and arms stuck in her shirt, when Killian climbs through her window. 

 

“Oh, oh, I’m so sorry.”

 

She can practically _hear_ his embarrassment.  Emma struggles a bit to lower her shirt back down.  She almost laughs when she sees him, his eyes covered by a book, arms crossed before him like she’s going to attack him with her partial nudity. 

 

She keeps her eye on Killian as she finishes up.  He is as still as a statue. 

 

“It’s safe now,” she teases.

 

“I didn’t mean to,” he says, arms still up.

 

Emma can’t help but smile fondly.  She reaches over and forces him to lower his arms. 

 

“This is what you get for sneaking into women’s bedrooms.”

 

He turns red.  “I, I was…I…brought you a new book,” he says, not looking her in the eye yet.  He practically thrusts it into her hands. 

 

She accepts it with a smile before pushing him onto the bed.  It’s becoming a bit of a ritual. 

 

“You’re welcome anytime, you know,” she tells him softly, surprising herself with her invite and how much she means it. 

 

He looks up at her in awe and she’s not sure how she deserves this from such a small gesture.  But she understands it, how any act of kindness, any olive branch, seems like the world when you’ve been let down so often.

 

She gently nudges him until he has maneuvered to his side of the bed and she settles next to him just as she looks at the cover of her new book.  “A Little Princess?” she frowns when she reads the title.

 

“What’s the matter?”

 

“I’m not a princess,” she says, dropping the book in his lap.

 

She can feel him eyeing her but she refuses to look at him.  Or the book.  She’s not a princess.  Not like Henry believes.  Not like she once dreamed. 

 

Killian shifts closer to her until their sides are pressed together.  “Nonsense, Swan.  All little girls are princesses.”

 

“I’m _not_ a little girl,” she snorts, still looking away from him.

 

“Aye, I’ve noticed,” he says lowly in her ear and she can’t help but feel that swopping motion in her stomach again, like when they first met.  “Try something new, darling.”

 

“And what is that?” she sighs, finally looking at him.

 

He winks at her.  “It’s called trust.”  And he starts reading.

 

***

 

Emma is tracing the spine of “A Little Princess”, wondering what happens next to Sara Crewe after she’s been moved to the attic, when Graham shows up with a box of breakfast pastries.

 

“Sometimes the clichés are true,” he says to her.

 

She knows a bribe when she sees one.  “Okay, what do you want?”

 

“Remember when I said no night shifts?”

 

She tilts her head back, hoping he’s kidding.

 

“I need you to work tonight. Just this once.”

 

“Why?” she finds herself whining.  This means she will have to miss a reading with Killian.  She barely catches Graham’s response about volunteering at an animal shelter and feeding puppies.

 

Of course he’s feeding puppies.

 

She reaches for the bear claw.  “Maybe Killian can stop by,” she thinks out loud.  She doesn’t realize that Graham has heard her until he shifts closer and sits on her desk.

 

“What now?” she asks around a mouthful of pastry.

 

“You know, Jones has had a run-in with the law.”

 

“Seriously?” she sits up and glares at him.  She doesn’t know how anyone who knows Killian could ever believe he’s a criminal.  She knows criminals.  Hell, she was a criminal.  Killian is nothing of the sort.

 

“There was this girl…”

 

“I know,” she interrupts. 

 

“He confessed to–”

 

“And it’s that simple?” she challenges.  Because she knows, it’s never that simple.

 

“Isn’t it?” Graham counters.  “If you’re serious about protecting this community, you can’t continue cavorting with a criminal.”

 

“I probably shouldn’t be taking a bribe either,” she says as she throws her bear claw in the trash.

 

***

 

Killian is leaning against the patrol car when she walks out of the station.  “For the night shift,” he says, holding up a to-go cup.

 

“Thanks,” she smiles tightly.  She hadn’t expected him to stop by when she complained she had to work tonight.  Sure, she had _wanted_ him to stop by but she didn’t – couldn’t – invite him.

 

She is glad to see him though, even if it’s just for a few minutes.  It had been a rough day.  Graham kept trying to bring up Killian’s record, as though there wasn’t a resident drunk or a pawnshop owner trading babies in town.  The tension had been palpable in the sheriff’s office and she actually started looking forward to the night patrol just so she could get away.  She’s good at the getaway part.

 

“I know it will probably be past your bedtime when I’m done, but maybe you could come by again in the morning?”  she says as she leans her head on his shoulder, the stress from earlier today receding in his presence. “I could use another coffee then.”

 

“Come again?” Killian tilts his head curiously down at her.  “But, aren’t we going to ride together, Swan?  We always ride together.”

 

Emma winces.  Maybe she should’ve expected this.  He is here after all. 

 

“Look, Killian.” She doesn’t know what Killian used to do in the evenings before he started climbing through her window but she hadn’t expected to have this conversation quite yet.  “Graham doesn’t think…”

 

Killian’s face instantly falls and she finds it hard to tell him that Graham has pretty much forbid him from joining her on rides or anything else while she is acting in an official capacity.  She tries to give him a sympathetic look but thinks she ends up looking just helpless.

 

“Graham doesn’t think I should be around you,” he finishes for her. “Right.  I should go.”

 

“Hey, hey,” she says, reaching out to him, but he is already stepping to the side, and all her hands grasp is air.  She _feels_ his absence in the missed grab.  Like she had felt the absence of her parents her entire life, of the baby she gave away.  It scares her and she is the one that retreats again. 

 

“It’s just patrol.  No big deal,” she shrugs as though she hadn’t been angry about it all day, as though she didn’t look forward to patrols with him.

 

He stops and studies her.  She wants to fidget under his blue gaze but she looks away instead.

 

“I understand, Swan,” he smiles sadly at her as though he does understand, as though this isn’t about what Graham has mandated any more or what anyone else thinks, it’s about how scared she is of truly acknowledging his importance to her, it’s about how she pushes people away.

 

”Have a safe patrol.”  He says it like he’s saying goodbye.

 

“Killian! Wait!” she cries when he rushes away.  She starts after him but he vanishes around a corner.  She runs down a couple alleyways but he is nowhere in sight.  “He probably climbed up a fire escape,” she mutters to herself after checking a few more streets. 

 

She is still thinking about the look of Killian’s face when she’s halfway through patrol.  She glances at her phone again.  He hasn’t returned any of her texts either.  She’s pulled away before, when she had thought of Killian as her home.  She had been able to suppress that thought, denied her heart that conversation, and things had been _fine_ between her and Killian.  She just needs to do it again.

 

She is making a mental note to stop by the school in the morning to talk to him when she catches a shadow sneaking out of Regina’s house.

 

It takes her a moment to process that the man sneaking out of the mayor’s bedroom window is Graham.  “This is volunteering?”

 

“Plans changed.  Regina needed me.”

 

“To sleep with her?”  She can’t believe what Graham has been doing while Henry is in the house. 

 

She tosses the keys to the squad car at Graham. “You can finish your shift. I’m done working nights.”

 

She walks all the way down to the docks.  She had told herself she needed to talk to Killian about Henry and Graham and Regina.  She had even repeated it under her breath as she walked there.

 

She looks down at her phone again.  Still no message from Killian.  She hesitates for a moment, shifting on her feet in the cold, before sending off another text.  She doesn’t expect a reply and she doesn’t get one. 

 

She should walk away now.  She knows this isn’t just about talking to a friend, updating them on the sordid details of her son’s adopted mother and other town gossip.  She is getting in too deep, she can feel herself standing on the verge.  She has been down this road before and she knows that it is riddled with heartache.

 

She’s about to turn when she hears the clock tower tick.  All the way from Main Street.  It’s midnight now.

 

She may not have found the people she was looking for.  But other people found her.  “Son of a bitch,” she mutters to herself before she squares her shoulders and follows the path down towards the rundown shacks where she knows Killian lives. 

 

***

 

Emma Swan has had her fair share of bad days.  More than fair share in fact.  And she can add this one to the count.  She hadn’t been able to find Killian’s place last night and he hadn’t shown up for work or reached out to her all day.  She had been telling herself that it was for the best.  Fate wanted them to keep their distance.  Then Graham threw a dart at her like that was a reasonable way to start a conversation.  And now that sorry excuse for authority is grabbing her face and is kissing her. 

 

“What the hell was that?  That was way over the line!”

 

“I’m sorry, I just –”

 

“What? You what?”  She doesn’t care for apologies, she just wants to know what the hell is going on.

 

“I just need to feel something,” he finally says as he steps closer.

 

Oh, she’s going to make him feel something alright.  But before she can even lift her knee up, Killian is looming in the background right over Graham’s shoulder.  She’s never seen the mild-mannered librarian angry.  But he looks ready for war. 

 

“Oi, the lady said that was over the line!” Killian shouts at Graham before turning the sheriff towards him and punching him in the face. 

 

Emma’s given her fair share of right hooks.  More than fair share in fact.  So she knows a good one when she sees one. 

 

Graham takes a bit to recover, shaking his head, holding the side of his jaw in pain.  But he’s not going down without a fight either and he charges at Killian.  Emma moves to intervene but Killian side-steps him at the last moment and pivots, lands a punch in Graham’s gut before flipping the man onto the pavement in one seamless move.

 

“Where did you get those moves from?” Emma exclaims as Killian looks back and forth between Graham on the ground and his own hands.

 

“I, I don’t know,” Killian stutters.  “I took a self-defense course at the local gymnasium once. Maybe it’s muscle memory?”

 

“That’s quite some muscle memory,” she replies, still in shock.

 

“That’s assault,” Graham mutters from his prone position on the ground.

 

“So was that kiss,” Emma counters as she maneuvers herself between the sheriff and the librarian. 

 

Graham averts his eyes at that and let’s his head fall to the ground.  Emma doesn’t wait around for him to come to his senses.  She grabs Killian’s prosthetic hand and leaves.

***

 

“You know I can save myself, right?” she is saying to Killian as she leads him into the loft.

 

“Aye, I know, Swan.  But I couldn’t stand by while he…he, um…”  Killian just finished by making a lot of gestures. 

 

“What? Besmirched my honor?” she asks with a small smile. 

 

“Have you been reading a dictionary without me?”

 

Emma slaps him playfully on the arm.  He looks up briefly and smiles, but he doesn’t really look her in the eye and his smile is tight.  It feels like they are back to their earlier days.  Isn’t that what she had wanted?  Not to get too involved?

 

But she misses him.  It’s been all of a day and she misses him.  “Hey, I wouldn’t read without you.”  She pulls at his hand and he winces. 

 

“You hurt yourself,” she frowns at his torn knuckles.  She doesn’t know how she’s missed them before. “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.”

 

“Perhaps I should just go to the hospital,” he grimaces, turning away from the sight of his own blood.

 

Emma tries hard not to laugh.  “I’ve gotten into a few scrapes myself from my bail bond days so I think I can handle this for you.”  She doesn’t want to hand him to Whale either who she suspects has an alcohol problem.  She rather just take care of Killian herself.

 

“Aye, I’ve noticed.  You seem fond of telling folks that you could just punch them in the face.” 

 

Emma couldn’t help but laugh this time.  “You’ve noticed, huh?”

 

“Of course, I notice everything about you.”

 

“No, you don’t,” she scoffs, averting her eyes and pulling him into the bathroom.  She directs him to sit on the edge of the tub as she digs through the medicine cabinet for some alcohol and some gauze.

 

She doesn’t expect Killian to press on.  It’s rare for him to do it, especially when it comes to _them_.  “I notice you won’t look me in the eye when you are scared.”

 

Emma rolls her eyes.  “And what am I scared of?” she asks as she pointedly looks at him in the eye.

 

“Of believing me.”

 

Emma blinks and turns her head away before she realizes what she is doing.  “There’s no damn alcohol in here.  I’m going to the kitchen.”

 

She takes her time considering bottles of wine, trying not to think about what Killian has just said.  She picks a red she doesn’t particularly like from the back but then sees a bottle of rum behind it.  “Mary Margaret has been hiding the good stuff,” she says, holding it aloft, when she returns.

 

“Rum?” Killian wrinkles his nose in distaste and it’s not way too adorable.  Of course not.

 

Emma shakes her head.  “Don’t tell me you are allergic to it?”

 

“No, just goat’s milk.”

 

“How do you know you are allergic to goat’s milk?”  Emma holds up her free hand.  “No, no, never mind, I don’t care to know.  Let’s just take care of your hand.”

 

“I thought you said my injury is not that bad.  You even tried not to laugh at it.  Why would I need to imbibe in any liquor?”  Killian finishes his question on a particular high note as Emma pours the rum on his hand.  “What did you do that for?”

 

“Just sanitizing it,” she says as she dabs at his battle wounds.  She uses her free hand to wrap the gauze around his knuckles and leans down to tighten the end of it with her teeth.

 

“You couldn’t have just put the bottle of rum down?” Killian breathes in her ear.

 

Emma startles and looks up, her face mere inches for Killian.  “I…I…I didn’t think about it.” 

 

“ _Perhaps there is a language which is not made of words and everything in the world understands it_ ,” he quotes from _The Little Princess_.  She remembers him reading it.  She remembers him murmuring it into her ear like there was noting truer in the world. 

 

Emma puts down the bottle of rum and corks it to keep her hands busy.  She knows and doesn’t know what he is trying to say.  She goes with the safe route though.  “You were supposed to read to me yesterday.  You’re going to have to make it up to me.”

 

“Is that an order, princess?”

 

She can’t help but smile at his teasing tone.  “Yeah, that’s an order,” she says she slides her fingers into Killian’s hand and squeezes lightly, mindful of his injury.

 

“And how am I to make up for it?”

 

She means to tell him that he has to read an extra chapter for her tonight. They can keep things the way they are.  Safe and distant.  But when Killian squeezes her hand, she looks up instinctively and she finds him looking at her earnestly, and she can’t turn away this time, she sees strength and bravery in his eyes and she’s not afraid, she finds strength and bravery in herself too. 

 

“Kiss me.”

 


	6. the other duckling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, it's been over a year since I've updated this story! But I've edited all of the previous chapters now (content hasn't changed much but I fixed some things that were bothering me) and I've outlined the rest of the story. A lot happens this chapter, we speed up and cover 1x7 to 1x13. Please let me know your thoughts!

Emma has imagined this.  When she woke in the mornings and his lips were close to hers.  When he smiled, when he laughed, when he sighed, when he was eating a blueberry Pop-Tart with frosting.  He would be hesitant, he would be awkward, he wouldn’t know what to do with his lips or hands.  She would teach him - how to kiss, how to bite, how to place his hands on her hips just so. 

 

But like climbing fire escapes and punching sheriffs, he surprises her - he knows what to do.  He kisses her with intensity, with finesse, his hand buried in her hair, his prosthetic turning her chin where he wants it to go.  She feels like she’s drowning and she never wants to take another breath.

 

The kiss goes on and on. Each time one of them pulls back, the other one dives in again.    

 

“How...did you...even...learn...to…mmmmhh... _kiss_...like?" she mumbles between long breathtaking kisses.

 

“I don’t...even...remember.  Maybe, I’m a natural,” he rasps out.

 

He pulls back for a moment.  “Or maybe Lacey taught me,” he grins.

 

She knows he’s teasing but a fierce possessiveness rises up in her and she grabs the collar of his jacket and pulls him back to her.  “Shut up,” she growls before she actually makes him do it with her own mouth.

 

***

 

She is not panicking.  She is  _not_.  At least that’s what she’s trying to tell herself as they lay in her borrowed bed, curled up together.

 

Killian is humming under his breath, playing with her hair.  It’s sweet.  Too sweet.

 

The white-knuckle grip she has on his collar intensifies as she tries to keep her flight instincts at bay.  She had  _missed_ him the single evening they had been apart.  She doesn’t want to let him go.  But she’s not ready to let him in either, not if it means taking down her walls.  Can she keep them up without pushing him away?  She isn’t sure but she knows if she gives in to her desire to run right now, she could lose him.  So she holds on with more strength than she realizes she even has.

 

“I carry this book with me,” Killian says all of a sudden.

 

“Hmmm,” she says, hoping her voice isn’t rattling as much as it is in her head.

 

Killian shifts up in the bed and tilts his hips towards her so he can reach behind him.  He pulls out a palm sized book meant for young children from his back pocket.  “This one is special.”

 

“Oh?” she asks, welcoming the distraction.

 

“My father abandoned Liam and me when we were young.  The social workers came the very next day and I didn't get a chance to return this book to the library.  I felt guilty about it for weeks.  It was my first crime.”  He lets out a self-deprecating chuckle, “my only _real_ crime.” 

 

He turns the small book in his hand.  Faded good lettering runs across the top of the book.  The Ugly Duckling.

 

“It’s not even mine but it’s the only thing I have left of home.  A story about an ugly duckling who was really a swan.”

 

“That’s not what the story is about.”  She doesn’t really mean for it to come out that brusquely but it seems she’s got a special talent for it.

 

Killian doesn’t seem to mind though.  “Oh?  Then what is it about?” he asks, curiosity making his eyes seem brighter and more youthful.

 

“A duckling who wanted to become a swan.  So it did.”  At least that’s what she told herself when she was all alone.  It helped her survive.  She wasn’t a lost princess waiting for parents to come, she was the one who made herself who she was.  After all, no one ever did come for her. 

 

“Hmm, if we believe in something strongly enough, we have the power to change our fate.”

 

Emma opens her mouth to protest.  That’s not what she means, is it?

 

Before she manages to sort out her thoughts, Killian pulls her in closer.  “I must say, that’s an interesting way of looking at it.  Perhaps you’ve always been a believer.”  He smiles at her.  “Let’s read about this duckling the Emma Swan way then.”

 

***

 

She’s not sure what she’s doing.  Other than letting Killian Jones climb into her window and kiss the living daylights out of her each evening.  That part is pretty great.  

 

But there’s nothing worse than false hope.  And she’s afraid she’s giving him just that.

 

They don’t talk about it.  He doesn’t ask what they are, they don’t hold hands in public.  He is still sneaking in after-hours like her mother is sleeping just one floor below.  Which, according to Henry, that’s exactly where her long-lost mother is.

 

So she could go on like this really.  Except she can’t. Because she knows Killian as much as she knows anyone and he is all in but letting her take the lead.

 

That kind of devotion terrifies her.  Because she doesn’t believe she can return it in kind, even if she wanted to.  And does she want to?  That’s a question she doesn’t want to answer.  Because the answer is on the other side of her walls.

 

When did her life become so complicated?  A son who believes in curses.  A hostile mayor/evil queen trying to run her out of town.  A once mild-mannered roommate having an affair with a married man. A sheriff muttering about wolves and still looking at her with puppy eyes.

 

Emma’s thoughts are interrupted when said sheriff wanders in - disheveled and glassy eyed - followed by the mayor and Sidney Glass of all people.

 

“You look hard at work, Deputy,” Regina sneers as she looks at Emma’s propped up feet.

 

Emma merely leans back in her chair and eyes Regina in return.

 

“There’s going to be a few changes around here.”

 

“Oh, is there?” Emma asks as she reaches for the bear claw Killian brought her this morning.

 

“Oh, yes,” Regina draws out.  “Our dear sheriff here has decided to take a leave of absence and Sidney will be acting sheriff in the meantime.”

 

Emma sits up.  “What are you talking about?”  She looks to Graham but he’s looking at the floor.   “You can’t do this.”

 

“I just did.”  Regina’s smirk widens.  “Oh, and you’re fired.”

 

***

 

Emma is pursuing the town charter when Killian climbs through the window.

 

“You’re already reading something,” Killian remarks as he joins her on the bed.

 

“Yeah, the town charter.”

 

Killian lifts his brow in query.

 

“Graham just took a leave of absence and Regina appointed Sidney Glass as sheriff.  And she fired me.”

 

“What?" Killian exclaims as he takes her hand and squeezes.

 

Emma can’t help but smile and squeeze back.  “Well, don’t worry.  Go-”

 

Emma stops herself.  She doesn’t know how Killian will take the news that Gold is her benefactor.  She dislikes the man as much as Killian does but like the pawnshop owner said to her earlier, they have a common enemy in Regina and they can get things accomplished together.

 

“Got a heads up that Regina might not be as powerful as she thinks she is.  See here,” she says, looking away from Killian.  “It says that the sheriff position is an elected position.”

 

“You’re going to run for Sheriff?” he asks.  She doesn’t look up but she can hear his smile.  It makes her stomach twist. 

 

“Yeah...looks like it,” she says, eyes on the charter.

 

“I’m so proud of you,” he replies as he pulls her close and kisses her on the temple.

 

“Thanks,” she mumbles, closing her eyes and trying to ignore the pit in her stomach for omitting the full truth.

 

***

 

She doesn’t expect Killian to be in her room after her confession that Gold had supported her candidacy.  

 

She rushes towards him.  She wants to explain it all.  She wants to apologize for accepting Gold’s “help”.  She wants one less half-truth between them.

 

But she doesn’t get a chance to speak.  As she reaches him, he spins her around and drops her unceremoniously on the bed.  Before she can even get her breathe back, he is kissing her very thoroughly.

 

She is completely immersed in him and cannot think of anything else until he pulls back.

 

“I’m so proud of you, Swan.”

 

"What?  Why?” she gasps, trying to catch her breath.  “I accepted Gold’s help and didn’t tell you or anyone about it.  I shouldn’t have done that.”

 

Killian shakes his head.  “He’s manipulative.  Everyone has fallen into his trap more than once.  But you stood up to him.  You did the right thing.  All on your own.”

 

“I...I guess I did,” she smiles shakily.  “Hey,” she grins as she pulls him closer by his shoulders.  “Did I tell you I also won?”

 

Killian laughs.  “Bloody hell, Swan.”

 

Emma barely has time to think of what an odd thing it is for Killian to say before he’s kissing her again.

 

***

 

Emma tiredly makes her way up the stairs to her shared apartment.  Her odd trek in the woods with August had been frustrating at best - it didn’t yield any new information about him, other than he enjoyed appearing mysterious - and it resulted in a number of probing and inappropriate questions and comments from Granny, Ruby and even a couple of nuns.  It's not like he's _that_ handsome - he's got the scruff thing going she likes - but Killian is definitely better looking.  She jams her key into the apartment door and pushes her way in.

 

She is surprised to see Killian in the apartment, sitting on Mary Margaret’s bed.  As far as she can recall, he’s never made house calls and has only been in her room in the middle of the night.  He turns towards her for a brief moment, his expression unreadable and closed off, before he turns away again.  It takes her a moment to realize Mary Margaret is next to him, on her bed, curled away from the door and crying.  

 

Something must have happened with David.  She sighs, not sure what to do.  She’s not good with...comfort, and Killian is already there.

 

“Do you want some more company?” she offers tentatively.

 

“We’re fine,” Killian bites out without looking at her.  

 

Emma steps back, surprised.  Killian has never used that tone with her before.  She didn’t even know Killian could have such a tone.  She is even more unsure of what to do.  Mary Margaret simply sniffs some more and Killian keeps her back to her.  Maybe whatever happened to Mary Margaret brings back bad memories of whatever happened to him.  

 

“Uh...I’ll just be in my room if you need anything.”

 

***

 

She waits a long time.  She doesn’t hear much from downstairs, some crying now and again, Killian’s soft words of comfort often following.  She expects him to come up when Mary Margaret falls asleep but as she listens to his movements, it seems like he’s leaving.

 

“Hey,” she calls to him as quietly as she can over the railing.  “Where are you going?”

 

"Leaving," he says flatly, not looking up.  

 

“I thought you would stay.”

 

“Not expecting other company?” he asks.

 

She doesn’t understand his tone or question and she exhales in frustration.  “Can you just come up here for a sec?”

 

He doesn’t move for a long moment.  He seems to be debating before he slowly takes the steps up.  She wants to know what’s up with him but the dark and guarded look in his eyes scares her.  She asks about Mary Margaret instead.

 

“She broke it off with David Nolan.  He agreed to tell his wife the truth about the two of them.  But he didn’t, claimed he wanted to spare Katherine’s feelings.”

 

Emma groans.  “Let me guess?  Katherine found out?”

 

“Indeed.”  His entire body radiates tension.  She can feel how upset he is even from across the room.  “Katherine confronted Mary Margaret at school.  Now everyone is calling the lass a tramp.”

 

Emma closes her eyes and sighs.  “Secrets are never a good idea.”

 

“Funny you would say that.”

 

Emma’s eyes snap open.  He is speaking in the same biting tone he used earlier.

 

“I guess I’m not a good idea.”

 

“What do you mean?”  She tries to keep her voice even but she has a feeling she’s not going to like this conversation.

 

“You’ve been keeping lots of secrets.  About Gold, for instance.”

 

Emma frowns at him.  “You said you understood.”  Was he actually taking that back?  Had he actually been angry about her brief association with Gold and lied about it?

 

“How was your date earlier today?” he asks instead of responding directly.

 

Emma’s breathe hitches.  It isn’t about Gold at all.  “It was not a date.”

 

“That’s not what everyone else is saying.  Small town, you know.”

 

“It was just a drink.  It meant nothing.”

 

“Then why didn’t you say anything to me about it?”

 

“Why do I have to?  It’s not like you are my keeper,” she shoots back.  She feels her earlier frustration from everyone’s gossipy comments rise up again.  She can’t believe she has to defend herself.  Especially to Killian.

 

“Then what am I?  Just another dirty secret?”

 

She feels her heart stop for a moment.  She is not ready to have this conversation about what he means to her.  Especially not when he’s being so adversarial and believing other people’s accounts over hers.  She mentally digs her heels in without even realizing it.  "Look, I can do what I want.  It doesn’t have to mean anything.  We don't have to mean anything!" she exclaims in frustration.

 

The second she says it she wishes she can take it back.  Because of course it means something to her, it means a lot more than she’s willing to admit to herself, much less him.  But she’s frustrated and angry and so very very afraid of letting anyone get past her walls.  But she doesn’t want to lose him either.  And just, _fuck_.

 

All the color seems to have drained from Killian’s face.  The anger and darkness has disappeared from his eyes.  His heart, his vulnerability, seem to quiver at his lips for a second before he just bolts.

 

She follows him to the window, tries to reach him, to take her words back, to explain, but he’s already beyond her reach.  

 

“Wait, Killian, please!” 

 

She looks out the window and sees him climbing down the fire escape at a reckless pace.   “Killian, be careful!” she screams as he slips, sliding down the side rail.  She calls to him again as he jumps the last few feet but then, he is on the ground and running and he doesn’t look back.

_**Thoughts?** _


	7. i will always be here for you

Emma wakes up alone.  She hasn’t seen or heard from Killian since he climbed out her window weeks ago.  No one has.  He hasn’t been at work or at the diner.  He hasn’t been seen at any of his few haunts.  She’s even checked improbable places, like the Rabbit Hole.  It's like he’s a ghost, like he has never been here.  

 

But he has.  She feels his imprint on her being, still smells his fading scent on her pillow, has saved messages on her phone.  And there are books upon books left in her care.  Special ones, including one of a lost duckling, that he had been carrying since his childhood until he left it with her.  She wraps them in her baby blanket, keeps them safe.  Because they mean something to him and he means something to her.  A lot to her. 

 

But she made him think he meant nothing to her.  And she can’t blame anyone but herself for that.  She had put up walls to protect her heart.  She hadn’t realized it would set someone else to fall.  She hadn't realized it could hurt her too.

 

Emma sighs as her phone vibrates.  It is a text from Graham.  The DNA results are back.  The heart Ruby found in the woods belonged to Katherine.

 

Emma feels a migraine coming on.  There is no fucking way Mary Margaret committed such a gruesome murder.  The woman cried when she overwatered and killed a succulent last week.  Emma just needs to prove this is a setup.

 

The sheriff heaves herself off her empty bed and makes her way down to a similarly empty apartment.  It is quiet, no different than her apartment in Boston.  Yet, she has never felt more alone before. 

  

***

 

It’s been a hell of a week between being kidnapped, trying to stay one step ahead of Regina and finding out Katherine is alive.  Maybe the mayor is an evil queen after all.  Emma will need proof but for now, she is relieved to be celebrating Mary Margaret’s release.

 

She joins her newly freed roommate at her booth at Granny’s.  “I’m glad to have you back,” she says sincerely.

 

“Thanks, me too.  I can’t believe there’s a party for me!”  Mary Margaret exclaims in wonder.

 

Emma tries not to grimace.  She can’t believe it either given the way the town treated Mary Margaret when she was a suspect.

 

“Cake?”  Mary Margaret asks, pushing a chocolate slice in between them.

 

“Tell me it has rum in it.”

 

Mary Margaret smiles.  “That wouldn’t be a bad idea.  Just chocolate I think.  Unless Granny snuck some in as an apology.”

 

“She should’ve,” Emma mumbles around a forkful of cake.

 

Mary Margaret sighs.  “Yeah, well, the evidence pointed to me.”

 

“The evidence was planted,” Emma counters.

 

Mary Margaret smiles sadly before shaking her head and adopting a sunnier, if insincere, disposition. “Enough about me.  What about you?”

 

“What about me?” Emma responds as she lifts an eyebrow at the schoolteacher.  “You know where I’ve been mostly.  Not making much headway on your case.”

 

Mary Margaret takes her hand and Emma tries not to think of how long she’s had that sort of comfort.  “Hey, it’s not your fault.  Who would’ve thought you would have to go up against an evil queen?”

 

Emma laughs.  They all think Regina is an evil queen.  And Mary Margaret would be a good candidate Snow White, just like Henry said.  “That’s what I’ve been asking myself."

 

“So nothing new going on with you.  Anyone else?  Do you know what happened with Killian?”

 

Emma startles and drops Mary Margaret’s hand, caught off-guard by the mere mention of Killian’s name.  She had been so unsuccessful in reaching him, she had thrown herself - or sometimes, had been thrown by others - into Mary Margaret’s case and buried Killian in another dormant part of her head (and heart).  “What do you mean?” she asks as calmly as she can.

 

Mary Margaret frowns at her.  “You know, why he resigned his job at the school?  He never mentioned anything to me when he saw me.”  She pauses to take another bite of cake, unaware of Emma’s impatience for more information.  “I suppose because I was in jail.  I thought you might know.”

 

“He came to see you?  When?” Emma exclaims, leaning as far forward as the table between them would allow, dormant parts now reactivated at the news.

 

Mary Margaret gives her a confused look.  “He visited me sometimes between your and Graham’s shifts.  You never saw him coming to or from the station?”

 

Emma swallows hard.  “I...I haven’t seen him since he came by the loft.  For you.”  She doesn’t say anything about what happens after. _I said something I didn’t mean.  I did something that had been done to me.  I hurt him.  He won’t come see me._

 

“Oh...I see,” Mary Margaret says slowly.

 

“What?  What is it?”  She leans forward, concerned.

 

Mary Margaret shoots her a questioning look before saying, “He looked...tired every time I saw him.”

 

Emma’s stomach sinks.  She knows “tired” is probably not close to the right word to describe Killian’s state of being.  She just hopes that Lacey is there to support Killian while he is avoiding her.  The drunk tank regular had been notably absent the past few weeks.  She asks Mary Margaret as casually as she can.

 

“Yeah, she didn’t come in, she lingered by the door, but she was with him.  They’ve always stuck together, you know?”

 

“Yeah, so I’ve heard,” Emma sighs.

 

“Just like us,” Mary Margaret smiles.

 

***

 

She has to do what’s best for Henry, give him his best chance.  Even if it means leaving him again.

 

She tried, she did, to be the person Henry needs her to be.  But she bought into Henry’s fantasy that Regina was evil and had started a war with the woman.  And it’s hurting HER son, not helping him.

 

Like how she entered Killian’s life and ended up hurting him.  Ended up driving him away.  She would end up doing the same with Henry if she stayed.

 

She packs Killian’s books with care.  She had thought about leaving them with Mary Margaret but she’s not ready to give up her last connection with him.  And she’s coming back.  To visit Henry. 

 

She hears a knock on the door.  Henry.

 

***

 

Magic is real.  Magic is real.  She clutches Henry’s storybook as the memories assail her.  

 

“I need something,” Whale had said.  Because medicine can’t save Henry.  Only magic can.

 

She needs to find Regina, confront her, and make her FIX this.

 

She hears someone barreling into the room behind her.  She expects it to be Regina, not Killian.   

 

It’s the first time she has seen him in weeks.  He does not look good.  His hair is a mess, he hasn’t shaven in days and purple bruises are prominent under his blood shot eyes.

 

“I heard about Henry.  I came as quickly as I could,” he pants.

 

“You didn’t have to do that," she fumbles, surprised to see him after all this time.

 

“Of course I did.  He’s your boy.”  He looks down and shuffles his feet for a bit before looking back at her.  “Swan, I know things are...strained between us and there’s not much I can do to help, but I thought I could...”  He takes her hand and squeezes and she can’t help but squeeze back.  “I could at least be here for you.  If you want me to be.”

 

She’s never had someone just be there for her before.  She has told herself often enough that she didn’t need that but even more than the time she gave up Henry, she does need someone to lean on.  “No one has...” she whispers, unsure if she can fall into his arms the way she wants to.

 

Killian seems to read her thoughts and gathers her close.  “I know.  I will always be here for you,” he promises.

 

She only has a moment to accept his comfort when Regina comes rushing in.  “Where’s my son?”

 

Emma pulls back from Killian and grabs Regina’s arm.  “You did this.”    

 

She doesn’t need proof.  She knows.  Regina HURT Henry.  And she better have a way to fix this with her magic.

 

She turns back to Killian briefly.  She doesn’t have to ask.

 

“Go.  Do what you need to do.  I’ll wait here with Henry.  I won’t leave him,” he assures her.

 

As she drags Regina out of the room, she looks back once.  Killian has taken one of Henry’s hands and is holding it in his much larger one. Even after she hurt him, he still came back, he came back and he is here for her and Henry.

 

She only allows herself a brief moment to wonder which fairytale character he is supposed to be.  Henry never found a corresponding story about him in his book.  He’s a mystery, one that she and Henry can work on once her son is awake again.

 

***

 

Gold has double-crossed them.  She had known - Killian had warned her, Henry had warned her; hell, even Regina had.  She is going to get that bastard.  But before she gets a chance, her cellphone rings.  It’s the hospital.  They think she should come back.

 

“You’re still here,” she says to Killian when she arrives at the hospital.

 

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else,” he says as he steps towards her.  “But never mind me.  Henry...I..I’m sorry, Swan.”

 

Emma blinks at Killian, not quite understanding.  Then, she looks over at her son.  He looks so small and pale on the hospital bed, so quiet, so unlike Henry.

 

And he’s not hooked up to any machines anymore. 

 

He’s…

 

“No! no!  They said I just had to come back.  They need to do more tests, right?  They need me to sign some forms, give them permission to…I...” she is rambling as she hoovers over Henry, her hand on her boy’s too still face.

 

“No, no, this...”  But there’s no denying what she is seeing right in front of her eyes. 

 

Killian takes Emma’s free hand in his and squeezes.  His presence steadies her a bit as she tries to comprehend what has happened.  “Henry, you were right about the curse.  I should have believed you.  I’m sorry.”

 

She leans over Henry.  To say goodbye.

 

“I love you, Henry.”  _I love you, I love you, I love you._

 

She kisses her son on his forehead. 

 

The curse breaks. 

 

Killian lets go of Emma’s hand.

 

**A/N: The curse is broken!  How do you expect Killian to react now that he’s awake?  What do you think will happen?  I want to hear your thoughts!**


	8. the captain and the princess

As they march Regina past the clock tower, she thinks of Killian. They had spoken under that clock tower on her first day in Storybrooke. He said perhaps their meeting was fate but that it was up to her to chart her own destiny. She had been brought to Storybrooke by her own son, but SHE had decided to stay. And it changed everything. Including her.

 

She wonders if it has changed him, too. Or, now that he’s “awake,” is he whoever he was before? Has everything that happened between them been wiped away now the curse is broken? Did any of it matter to him? He had promised to be there for her. It was the kind of promise she never thought she would believe in again. But she did. With him. Then the curse broke and he was gone.

 

She wants answers; at the same time, she doesn’t.

 

“Are you ready to talk about it now?” Mary Margaret – Snow, her mother, _whoever_ she is – asks as she sidles up close to her.

 

Emma presses her lips together. It’s only been half an hour since Snow has asked if they could talk. And she’s not ready. She doesn’t know if she’ll ever be ready. Because Snow wants to be her mother, wants to act as though the last few months didn’t happen, as though the last twenty-eight years didn’t happen. But they did.  It had all been real for her.

 

But if they aren’t real for Snow, then they probably aren’t real for Killian. And she doesn’t know if she can face that. She finally had people she cared about, and now they probably don’t exist anymore.

 

“Emma? Please, I want to talk about everything,” Snow persists.

 

Emma feels like she’s on the verge of hysterical laughter. Snow wouldn’t have said that if she knew how “wonderful” her life had been after they stuck her in a wardrobe.

 

“Snow,” David warns as he takes his wife’s elbow and steers her away.

 

Emma gives David a grateful nod. She never really liked cursed David but at least this one seems to understand she needs space.

 

“She’s always been like that,” Regina sneers.

 

“Who?” she asks as she continues to march the other woman to the station.

 

“Your mother, of course. Never minding her own business. A constant meddler.”

 

Emma can’t help but roll her eyes. “Yeah, must have been really annoying for you while you were working on all your evil plans.”

 

She resists the urge to push Regina along. Especially since Henry is on her other side, holding her hand. He’s her only remaining anchor.

 

It is a relief to enter the station, to get to business and escape her thoughts and her parents’ stares and not-so-subtle whispers.

 

But she is surprised to find Graham at the station, locking up an argumentative Lacey.

 

She’s about to ask what is happening when Snow rushes forward. “Huntsman!" Snow cries, enveloping the deputy in a hug.

 

“Seriously, his name is just Huntsman?” Emma mutters under her breath.

 

“I knew it!” Henry exclaims, punching his small fist in the air.

 

“Uh yeah, good job, kid,” Emma says indulgently, ruffling her son’s hair.  In a louder voice, she asks, “What’s going on here? What’s Lacey in jail for?”

 

Before Graham can answer, Regina bites out with her usual charm, “What do you think? The town tramp had another night she can’t remember.”

 

Even before Regina finishes speaking, a knife is flying through the air, coming dangerously close to her face. It even takes a large swath of her hair before it embeds in the wall behind her.

 

Emma pulls Henry close to her as she reaches for her gun.  She turns in the direction of Regina’s assailant and gapes when she finds herself looking at Killian Jones.

 

He looks the same; yet, entirely different. He is still wearing the clothing he wore earlier in the day but the way he stands is different, the way he glares is different, the way his lips curl in a sneer is different.

 

“Call her that again and next time it won’t just be a haircut, your majesty,” he snarls at Regina.

 

The way he talks is different too. He has something like an English accent. Who the hell was he in the Enchanted Forest?

 

Regina snaps back at him. “You could have killed me!”

 

Killian leans back on his heels and chuckles humorlessly. “We both know you would already be dead if I was aiming to do that.”

 

Emma is surprised to see Regina turn away from Killian, only giving him a small huff of acknowledgement.  The woman had tried to put her into an endless sleep just yesterday and smirked at a mob only moments ago.  Was she actually scared of Killian?

 

“I know you always thought the world should revolve around you, love, but I’m afraid I’m not here for you,” Killian says as he swaggers through the group, his hips leading. Emma tries to catch his eye, to see if she recognizes Killian in this man, but he doesn’t even bother to look at any of them.

 

“You came for me!” Lacey cries in relief as he nears, her arms outstretched towards him.

 

He swipes the keys from Graham without even glancing at him. “Don’t worry, love, I’ve got you.”

 

“Now wait a second...” Graham begins, looking at his empty hand as though he is wondering how the keys have been taken from him so quickly. “I can’t just let you...”

 

“She has done nothing wrong,” Killian growls.

 

“She did before the curse broke. You know our bail procedures.”

 

Killian’s eye roll is so condescending that Emma imagines she would have laughed if she weren’t so overwhelmed by the changes in him.  She puts her gun back into her holster and holds on to Henry with both hands as she watches their exchange.  She probably should step in – she’s the sheriff after all – but she feels like an outsider amongst these newly awakened characters.

 

“Well, those procedures don’t even matter now, do they? This whole town is a lie, built on the Dark Curse.”

 

“But bail must be paid for Lacey,” Graham states even as a look of confusion steals across his face.  “I can’t let her out otherwise.”

 

“Bloody hell! She isn't Lacey French. She doesn’t exist anymore.”

 

Killian’s words sound like a punch in Emma’s gut. They echo her fears. Their cursed selves don’t exist anymore. Everyone is different. 

 

But she doesn’t have much time to grapple with this reality as Killian reaches behind Graham and pulls his knife out of the wall. He holds it dangerously close to Graham’s throat.

 

“Actually, why don’t I pay for it with a pound of your flesh, mate?”

 

“I’ve...but I have to...” Graham fumbles.  “The bail.”

 

David edges forward and Emma reaches for her gun but before either of them get too far, they hear the distinct sound of a rifle being loaded. Emma turns slowly over her shoulder and sees several men and a teenage girl aiming weapons at David and her.

 

“Hello, Princess Belle,” the largest member of the group calls pleasantly to Lacey.  Even as he adjusts his weapon higher on his shoulder.

 

“Oh hello, Jukes.” This apparent princess says with a wave before she turns to Killian who is now staring at Graham as though he’s trying to figure out a puzzle.

 

“Really, Killian, there’s no need for all the dramatics.”

 

Killian doesn’t look at Belle as she speaks; instead, he twirls the blade in his fingers - a show of skill, of dramatics - something that Killian the librarian never did or would have thought to do. He frowns a second longer at Graham before stepping back and sliding the dagger up his sleeve like some magician.  Then, swift like a magician, he has Graham handcuffed to the bars of the other jail cell. “It’s not personal, mate. I understand you don’t have much of a choice.”

 

He turns away with a flourish and flings open Belle’s cell door as soon as it is unlocked. The newly freed princess runs into his arms. They hold each other tight, as though they’ve been reunited after a lifetime.

 

Emma supposes it feels like a lifetime to them, cursed with different memories of what they must have meant to each other. 

 

She turns away.  She doesn’t need any more answers to the questions that have been running in her head. She has enough of an answer. Killian has his own princess before the curse, a princess he left her to save.

 

He is escorting Belle out, his right arm around the brunette’s shoulder, no one bothering to even stop them, when Emma finds herself reaching out and grasping his empty left wrist. He looks over at her, startled, his eyes wide and so blue, like how he looked at her before the curse was broken. She barely registers the way the guns all swing in her direction or his order to lower them. She doesn’t even know why she asks, why it even matters, but she wants to know before he walks out of her life forever.

 

“What’s your real name?”

 

He looks at her for a long moment.  “It’s the same, love. Killian Jones. Captain Killian Jones.”

 

It’s the same. 

 

But then he leaves with his princess.


	9. i can't lose you

“You’re all useless,” Regina snaps as she gestures at them with her marked palm.

 

“Well, tough, we are all you got,” Emma scowls, crossing her arms over her chest. It’s not her fault she doesn’t know anything about wraiths and cursed medallions. If Regina wasn’t so busy blaming everyone else for her predicament, she would’ve realized she is the reason Emma doesn’t have a magical education. “Why does Gold want you dead anyway? I thought he wanted you to cast this curse so he could get out of my par-” She glances over at Mary Margaret and David’s eager faces and sighs inwardly. “Out of Enchanted Forest jail,” she amends.

 

“Who knows?” Regina huffs as she throws her arms up dramatically. “He’s a manipulative power-hungry bastard. He probably sees any magic user as a threat to him and wants to get rid of them.”

 

Emma frowns at Regina’s explanation. The other woman isn’t lying but she’s not telling the entire truth.

 

“She does know.”

 

Emma spins around at the sound of an accented voice. Killian is standing in the doorway, one arm casually draped over Henry’s shoulder. Emma hasn’t seen him since he left the station the other day. Though his entire demeanor had been different, he was still dressed like the Killian she had known - slightly too long, too big chinos, a grandpa cardigan over a buttoned-up shirt. This Killian is wearing tight leather pants, a dark collared shirt that is more unbuttoned than buttoned under a fitted waistcoat. His scruff looks trimmed and artful now, rather than a result of sleepless nights, and he has eyeliner smudged under his eyes, making the blue look even deeper. Emma remembers how she felt the first time she met Killian Jones - this time she feels even more unsteady.

 

“Killian says he will help!” Henry exclaims as he grabs on to Killian’s hand and pulls him further into the station.

 

“You will?” Emma and Regina ask at the same time.

 

“Per the lad’s request. Certainly not for old time’s sake,” Killian scoffs.

 

“Well what are you going to do about it?” Regina demands. She is still sneering but she seems slightly more hopeful.

 

“I do have some ideas,” Killian smirks as he nears Regina. “I hope you don’t mind but my crew and I borrowed some items from your vault.”

 

“How did you get in to my vault?” Regina nearly gasps before catching herself and adopting a look of nonchalance. “Never mind, you were always annoyingly resourceful. I thought you would have escaped the curse actually.”

 

“Well it did cross my mind but you wouldn’t have left much behind but the ogres.”

 

Emma watches their exchange intently.  She doesn’t know this Killian at all but he seems to be talking in half-truths and teases, like he is playing with Regina.

 

“The Enchanted Forest is a wasteland,” Regina confirms.

 

“Lovely. And now we all live in perfect harmony in this quaint little town that Rumpelstiltskin created.”

 

“I created Storybrooke,” Regina counters.

 

Killian lifts an eyebrow at Regina. “You actually believe that? He  _used_  you to cast the Dark Curse because he didn’t want to sacrifice the thing he loved the most.”

 

Emma remembers reading this part in the storybook. Regina had crushed her own father’s heart. Emma pulls Henry to her. He was named after that man.

 

“No,” Regina presses her lips together.

 

“Well it’s done. And you  _are_  the reason the Crocodile didn’t have a heart to crush anyway.”

 

Killian steps back from Regina’s cell and flips the top of his satchel open. “Speaking of hearts,” he says as he digs through the bag. “It’s really quite useful you had all these things in your vault. But what would you have done with it when you didn’t have magic? Good thing Gold had this contingency plan in place. Or is it a bad thing? You know how it is. All magic comes with a price.” He nods at the mark on Regina’s hand.

 

“I forgot how much you could talk,” Regina mutters as she eyes Killian.

 

Emma is surprised at the knot of jealousy she feels in the pit of her stomach. Though it’s clear they are not on friendly terms, there’s familiarity between them she did not anticipate. They know each other in a way she will probably never know him.

 

“Well what did you find that was useful?” Regina asks impatiently.

 

Killian pulls out a canvas sack. Regina reaches for it but he holds it out of her reach. “Oh no, not this. This was just an interesting item I found while rifling through your vault.”

 

Killian turns towards Graham and throws him the bag. “I believe that’s yours, mate.”

 

Graham frowns as he opens the bag. His eyes widen as he takes in its contents.

 

“What’s in it?” Henry asks.

 

“It’s my...it’s...” Graham murmurs before he pulls out a beating heart from the bag.

 

“Whoa,” Henry says, running to Graham’s side to take a closer look. “Is that your heart?”

 

“Yes,” he says staring at it.

 

“I would imagine you would want to stick that back where it belongs, mate.”

 

“But how?” Graham wonders, still staring.

 

“Oh for goodness sake, just shove it back in,” Regina exclaims after everyone looks at each other uncertainly.

 

“Like I would trust you,” Graham snaps, finally breaking from his trance. He turns to Emma and offers her the heart. “Would you?”

 

“What?” Emma splutters as everyone’s eyes turn to her.

 

“You’re the Savior. You can put it back for me.”

 

She is shaking her head before Graham even finishes. “No, no, no, I can’t do that.” She starts backing up but stumbles into Killian.

 

He is warm against her back and she feels like she’s on fire where his arm is wrapped around her waist. “Of course, you can, love. I have yet to see you fail,” he assures as he guides her forward.

 

Her hand is trembling as she reaches for Graham’s heart but Killian places his own hand over hers, steadying it. Together they pick up Graham’s heart and he helps her ease it back into the huntsman’s chest.

 

A smile breaks across Graham’s face. “I can feel again,” he laughs. He reaches out, possibly to hug her, but Emma shuffles back, remembering the awkward kiss he imposed on her not that long ago. He may had been cursed but she wasn’t. Killian seems to recall as well and pulls her back with him. Emma just catches the glare David sends Killian’s way and the curious look on Mary Margaret’s face.

 

Apparently, they decide to step away from each other at the same time - Emma going to lean against a desk, Killian back to the jail cell.

 

Regina is rolling her eyes. “Now that’s done, what about me?”

 

Killian’s back is to her but Emma can imagine the look he is giving to the former queen.

 

“We just need a little bit of fire.”

 

“You can’t be serious! You can’t just burn a wraith. It is already dead,” she shouts. “Is this all you’ve come up with? Maybe Gold is right. We can’t escape our destiny.”

 

“After all you’ve done, you are willing to give into the Crocodile?” Killian snarls, getting right into Regina’s face.

 

“Like it’s going to turn out much better for you. I’m sure you are next.”

 

Emma is stepping forward before she realizes it. Killian can’t be marked too.

 

But Killian merely scoffs at Regina’s insinuation. “I’m not afraid of that imp. I make my own fate.”

 

“Well good luck with that.”

 

“I don’t need luck. I need to fight. And I know what the Qui Shen is. If you knew too, you would know fire will keep it at bay. It can even hurt it.”

 

Regina looks a bit mollified but pouts, “That’s not a permanent solution.”

 

“No it isn’t,” Killian agrees but he is digging into his satchel again. After a moment he pulls out a familiar battered hat.

 

“That’s one of Jefferson’s hat,” Emma says, stepping even closer.

 

“Aye, we just need some magic to get it to work.”

 

“You want to send to the Enchanted Forest!” Regina exclaims.

 

“If there’s nothing there, love...”

 

“Then it’s like sending it to oblivion.”

 

“Now the question is whether you can get your magic to work or not,” says a new voice.

 

Belle is in the doorway along with the gun crew that came to the station earlier. Her makeup and clothing are subtler than Lacey’s, probably more fitting of a modern-day princess.

 

“It seems like it’s a bit rusty,” she adds with a snark that is reminiscent of her cursed counterpart. She doesn’t wait for a response before looking at Killian. “Smee says he found something that you would want.”

 

A rotund man in a red beanie walks forward with a shy smile, like he’s looking for approval. “Captain,” he greets before pulling out a silver hook from behind his back. “I thought you might want this back.”

 

“You’re Captain Hook!” Henry exclaims.

 

Emma takes in a sharp breathe. She looks at Killian for confirmation.

 

The man chuckles as he accepts the metal appendage. “Aye, that’s my more colorful moniker, lad.”

 

Emma has to give herself a shake. The insecure shy librarian that shared her bed was actually Captain Hook.  She doesn’t even know why she’s surprised – her parents are apparently Snow White and Prince Charming and her son’s mother is the Evil Queen.  But she didn’t know anyone as much as she knew Killian, didn’t miss anyone as much as she knew Killian.  But that Killian doesn’t exist anymore.

 

“How did you keep your name?” Henry asks as he walks up to Killian and watches him attach it to the end of his wrist.

 

That was an _interesting_ point.  Emma mentally pats her son on the back.

 

“It’s a long story, Henry. Perhaps another day after we work on this wraith situation, eh?”

 

“Oh right, of course,” Henry readily agrees. However he’s rocking back and forth on his heels, clearly still excited and intrigued by the man before him.  

 

They should focus on Regina but Emma suspects he is deflecting again. 

 

“Yes, about me,” says Regina.  But before she can say anything more, the lights start to flicker.

 

“What’s that?” Henry asks before they are plunged into darkness.

 

“Most likely the wraith. It’s here,” Regina says, clutching the bars of her cell and looking scared for the first time. “It’s going to be a fate worse than death. The wraith sucks your soul.”

 

“No!” Henry shouts, running towards his adopted mother.

 

At the moment, the wraith bursts through one of the station’s windows. It looks just like Emma always imagined a dementor would look like. She stumbles forward to grab Henry but Killian gets to him first, putting a protective arm around him.

 

The wraith is already on Regina, sucking her soul, her face seeming to pull away in wisps. Henry is fighting against Killian’s hold, and he releases him to Emma before moving towards a desk chair and kicking it hard, turning it into splinters. He uncorks a flask with his teeth and empties it on the broken chair. He then strikes his hook hard against the cell bar, creating a spark, as he flips a rum soaked chair leg against it, and the resulting flame causes the wraith to twist and turn away.

 

Mary Margaret manages to start a flame of her own with a lighter and aerosol and together, with Killian, they attack the wraith and drive it back out the window. 

 

It’s silent for a beat before Henry exclaims. “Whoa! You have to teach me how to do that!”

 

Killian chuckles. “I suppose you are a prince. You will have to learn to fight.” He reaches down and musses Henry’s hair.

 

“He can learn that from a real prince,” David bristles, pushing forward.

 

“Indeed,” Gold says as he saunters into the room. “After all, you can’t learn from a dead man, young Mr. Mills.”

 

Gold casually raises his arm and Killian is lifted off the ground. Emma tries to rush forward but she is frozen in place. She looks around. Everyone is frozen, except Gold and Killian who is making awful choking sounds, even as he taunts the man. “You’ve always...been a...co-ward...never could fight like...real ma-”

 

Gold squeezes his fingers together and Killian breaks off in a gasp.

 

“No!” Emma finds herself screaming, fear rushing through her veins. She locks eyes with Killian before his start rolling to the back of his head. Something sparks at the end of her fingers and she feels the resistance that is keeping her in place give a bit. She can fight against this magic and move. Emma tries to put all her mental energy into it but her concentration falter when Belle speaks.

 

“Please, Rumple, stop!”

 

“It’s for your own good this riff raff is dead,” Gold growls.

 

“No, he’s my friend!” Belle argues, her voice frantic.

 

“It’s just the curse. He’s never been your friend. He’s a good for nothing pirate.”

 

“That’s not true! He freed me from Regina’s tower in the Enchanted Forest. He saved me!”

 

“No! No!” Gold’s face twists and he squeezes even harder.

 

Emma pushes against Gold’s magic hold even harder. This can’t happen, this can’t happen. Killian can’t just die like this, at the hands of some crazy magical pawn shop owner.

 

“Rumple, I’ll never forgive you!” Belle cries.

 

This seems to really get Gold’s attention. His hold on Killian loosens and Emma feels herself relax momentarily. But then Gold’s face hardens into something ugly and dark. “It’s a risk I’m going to have to take.”

 

He turns back to Killian but before he can finish the job, Emma breaks from his magical bonds and rushes at him. Emma sees the demon’s eyes widen for a moment in surprise before he disappears into a cloud of smoke.

 

Emma hears Killian drop to the floor rather than sees it. When she turns his way, he is already surrounded by his crew and Belle. He is on his knees with a man on each side holding him upright. Belle is in front of him, crying. “I can’t lose you, I won’t lose you.”

 

Emma breathes in deeply.  They are the same words beating in her heart.


	10. follow

Killian is humming “Ding-dong! The Witch is Dead” when he enters with his crew. Regina glares at him but it only causes him to smile widely.

 

“You’re late,” David interrupts, crossing his arms in irritation.  Emma can’t help but think for a guy who has spent most of his life in a coma he’s got the “dad look” down.

 

“How so? Her soul - or what is left of it - is still here.”

 

“I guess I can’t disagree with that,” David shrugs in return, letting his arms drop.

 

“Charming!” Mary Margaret exclaims. She seems outraged but Emma can barely hold back a snort.

 

David clears his throat. “Anyway, we brought some reinforcements,” he says, gesturing behind him.

 

Killian looks around and then down. “I don’t see any dwarves.”

 

“No, I mean the brooms.”

 

“A bit old fashioned, aren’t we?”

 

“Are you going to break more furniture?” David throws back but he seems amused. 

 

Killian is too.  He smiles at David.  “It’s not like there’s anything nice in here.”

 

It’s weird to see.  New David and new Killian getting along.  Emma can’t imagine her father getting along with Neal.  Not that David’s really her father, he didn’t raise her, and not that Neal was the kind of guy that you would bring around to meet your long-lost parents.  Still, weird.

 

“This is my office!” Regina protests.

 

“Don’t you have more important things to worry about?” Killian snarks.

 

“Don’t you?” she fires back.

 

“We do,” Belle confirms. “So why don’t you get that hat to work so we can focus on more important things?”

 

Emma eyes the princess.  She has more Lacey in her than she expected.  Maybe she has always had it in her.  Emma looks at her parents passing out makeshift torches to a few of Captain Hook’s crew and shakes her head.  Prince Charming and Snow White are leaders, fighters, they sacrificed their own child for their kingdom, they aren’t meek and uncertain like David and Mary Margaret who couldn’t help being selfish with each other.  She just _wants_ them all to be similar, familiar.  She’s kind of used to not getting what she wants.

 

Meanwhile, Regina has set the hat down on the floor.  And has been staring  at it.  Really hard.

 

“Anytime now, your majesty,” Killian taunts.  “Sun has already set.”

 

Regina huffs but doesn’t break her staring contest with the hat.

 

“Perhaps you should get ready too?” Mary Margaret suggests as she tries to hand Killian a broom stick.

 

“Oh I was born ready, midday,” he winks.

 

Emma’s stomach twists. That’s definitely not the Killian she knows.  It’s like a stranger wearing Killian’s face. 

 

“Skylights, give me eyes, would you?” Killians says, taking out a spyglass and tossing it behind him without looking.

 

The teenage girl (Skylights, apparently) scrambles across the top of Regina’s desk and nimbly plucks the item from the air.

 

“Of course, Captain!” she nods at him. “But uh...”

 

“What’s the matter?” he asks, turning and frowning at her hesitancy.

 

“Uh, well, I have a curfew. I have to be back by nine or my parents will take away my phone.”

 

“You have parents?” Killian asks, lifting an eyebrow in surprise.

 

“Well, no, not real parents but cursed parents and well,” she shrugs. “They aren’t so bad.”

 

He stares at Skylights for a long moment.  He’s going to refuse the poor kid, Emma thinks.

 

“Oh, off with you, go text that Daniels.”

 

The girl smiles.  “Are you sure, sir?”

 

“That’s an order, Anna.”

 

“Thank you, sir!” Anna turns to leave, her hair bouncing with her excitement, but then circles back and throws her arms around Killian’s waist. “It’s good to be a crew again, Captain.”

 

He pats her shoulder fondly. “Tell him if he does wrong by you I’ll gut him like a fish.”

 

“Of course,” she grins. “Strung up like a fish too, eh?”

 

“No other way.”

 

“I’m not sure you should encourage her to use violence in such a way,” Snow frowns at Killian once Anna has left the room.

 

“It’s merely a scare tactic,” Killian shrugs. “It would be a mess to clean up that much blood.  And you’ve got a daughter, you know the feeling.”

 

“She’s your daughter?”

 

Killian shakes his head.  “Just had her around since she was a wee one,” he explains before turning towards his crew.  “Anyone else got curfews?”

 

Smee raises his hat. “I am closing the shop tonight.”

 

“Shop?”

 

“I own a fro-yo shop,” he says, standing straight and proud. “You are welcomed to a special discount any time, Captain.”

 

Killian looks bewildered for a second before he leans back in his pirate-may-care stance.  “Alright, you are dismissed, Mr. Smee.”

 

“It’s quite good, Captain. We should all go after this business is done,” a pegged leg pirate says.

 

“Bloody hell,” Killian mutters under his breath.

 

“I think that sounds like a great idea,” Belle speaks up, looking pointedly at Killian. “They even have a Pop-Tart flavor.”

 

“Can you all shut up so I can concentrate?” Regina exclaims, still staring uselessly at the hat.

 

“I thought emotions fueled your magic. You would think anger would help you out,” Killian remarks.

 

 “Well apparently it’s not working.”

 

“You need to get it to work,” Emma frowns.

 

“Great observation, Nancy Drew,” Regina bites. She is still trying when the lights start flickering.

 

David and Mary Margaret light their brooms. Jukes moves to the window with his flamethrower.

 

“Whoa, where did you get that?” Emma exclaims as she eyes it.

 

“Pirate,” he smiles with blackened teeth.

 

And then, like before, the wraith crashes through the window. It expertly avoids Jukes and careens high above them to avoid David and Mary Margaret’s brooms. Killian grabs a broom from one of his crewmen and chases the shadow.

 

Emma nears Regina. “C’mon...”

 

“I’m trying.”

 

The wraith swoops down towards Emma and Regina. Emma stumbles into Regina in an effort to avoid it. Just as she feels an unnatural wind, Regina cries out, “Got it!”

 

The hat is spinning now and a black hole tinged with green light seems to open up from its center. Emma is so distracted by it, she doesn’t see the wraith dive again in her direction.

 

“Swan!”

 

Killian is driving the wraith towards the hat with his torch, trying to move it away from her while getting it into the portal. His feet slide up to the portal as he thrusts his broom into the middle of the wraith. It screeches as it gets sucked in. Jukes is there to grab Killian. There’s no one there for Emma when the wraith winds one clawed hand around her ankle and pulls her in after it.


	11. the man you know

Emma opens her eyes to a cloudless blue sky. She didn’t think they would be so generous with her on the other side. But the sky is beautiful, flawless; it even reminds her of someone’s eyes.

 

She tries to sit up but finds that everything hurts. “Ow,” she groans. “I never thought death would be so painful.”

 

She rolls over to find she’s been basically lying on a pile of rocks. “Great place to land,” she mutters as she pushes herself up to her knees and looks around.

 

She is in the middle of a ruined castle. Walls crumbling, turning into dust; what’s left is overgrown with weeds.  In an empty window, a black crow stares at her.

 

She scrambles to her feet despite the protest in her limbs. Where the hell is she? She wills herself not to panic. She’s been alone all her life, she’s even lived under a bridge as a kid. So what if she doesn’t know where she is? At least she’s not dead. Probably.

 

She just needs to gather her wits, find shelter, figure out if there’s anyone friendly.

 

“Bloody buggering fuck!” comes from somewhere to her right. It’s not the friendliest thing she has ever heard but... _it couldn’t be_ , she must have hit her head on the way down.

 

Still, Emma heads over the hill in the direction of the cursed words. She can hear the ruckus he is making, like he’s kicking rocks at the castle wall. When she rounds the corner, that is precisely what Killian Jones is doing, along with a lot of stomping and more shouting.

 

“I spent twenty-eight years in Storybrooke just to get to the Land Without Magic and now I'm back where I started,” he seethes at no one in particular.

 

It sounds like he needs a longer moment of cathartic release but she can’t wait any longer. She thought she had died only to realize she was in some unknown place, supposedly all by herself. She’s always done things alone but she’s really really relieved to see Killian.

 

“And where exactly are we?” Emma asks as she jogs closer.

 

Killian’s head whips around in her direction. She’s not sure who ends up running but she’s suddenly in his arms.

 

“Alright there, lass?” he says into her hair.

 

It feels so familiar and comforting and “I am now” is on the tip of her tongue but she ends up saying, “I’ve had better days.”

 

Killian chuckles and she can feel his laugh as he holds her to him and she holds him to her. But as glad as she is to see him, he is a stranger to her. She drops her arms and steps back. He does the same and the distance between them doubles.

 

“So where are we?” she asks before the silence between them can get more awkward.

 

“The Enchanted Forest,” he sighs.  “Welcome home, princess.”

 

Emma can’t help but look around again.  It’s not the nothing Regina claimed it would be.  But the ruins are even more depressing.  This is a glimpse of what things would have been.

 

“This was my parents’ castle?” she asks, trying to keep her voice even.

 

“No, I don’t think so.  This is further inland.  Your parents had a castle by the sea.”

 

“Okay,” she says, trying not to think of how perfectly fairytale that sounds.  There’s no use thinking about things that could have been.  That was not her life, it will never be her life.  “So you got pulled in too huh?” she asks, turning back to Killian.

 

Killian’s eyes flicker to the ground and he scratches the back of his ear. “Aye, that’s right.”

 

All thoughts of ruined childhoods and castles by the sea get pushed aside.  Killian Jones is lying.  Lying about getting pulled in. He has the same tell as cursed Killian. He didn’t get pulled in. Now that she thinks about it, she remembers the crew member keeping hold of him. Which means, he followed her. He followed her.

 

Emma is thrown. No one has ever done something like this for HER. Her parents placed her in a wardrobe to save a kingdom. Her first love let her take the fall for his crime so he could escape. Even her son - the one she loves so much, her True Love - brought her to Storybrooke to break a curse. She doesn’t know what to do. Except build a wall.

 

“Why would you do that?” she snaps, crossing her arms across her chest.

 

“Do what?” Killian feigns.

 

For a pirate, he’s a terrible liar. “Why would you follow me?” she asks, staring hard at him.

 

He scowls, all for show she can tell now. Just like her. “I wasn’t going to let you come here alone.”

 

“I don’t need a white knight. No one saves me except me.”

 

“Didn’t say you did. And in any case, you’ve got a pirate,” he winks.

 

He’s deflecting. Everything she’s seen since the curse broke – it’s an armor. She knows about those. She has done the same, she is doing the same. She pushes people to protect herself.  “And what good is a pirate?”

 

Killian reaches into his jacket pocket.  “We’ve got the best loot,” he says as he pulls out a familiar foiled-wrapped package.

 

“You’ve got Pop Tarts in your pocket?”  A lot of impossible things have happened in the past twenty-four hours but Killian Jones packing Pop-Tarts somehow surprises her.

 

“Aye and only the best kind.  Frosted blueberry,” he says as he tosses it towards her.

 

Emma catches it.  Looking at the Pop-Tart in her hand, she can’t help but think of that first day they met, how he offered this, her favorite kind, and how it didn’t seem like a coincidence. 

 

“Swan,” he says and she looks into his eyes.  “I might not be the man you know but you are the woman I know. I know you can navigate out of this bloody realm yourself but I’ve been here before, so let’s do this together.”

 

He holds out his hand. He’s lying – the man she knows, it’s still him, he’s been there all along.  She takes his hand.


	12. i am killian jones

They are passing the remains of an archway when Killian stops and eyes a tattered banner still attached to the ledge. The bottom half is bare thread and torn but the intricate pattern of a rose is still visible across the frayed fabric.

“Ah, the Rose Kingdom,” he says.

Emma frowns at the forlorn image the banner presents. “What do you think happened when the curse hit?”

Killian shakes his head. “This happened before the Dark Curse. King Stephen and Queen Briar Rose died years ago and their people left for other kingdoms.”

Emma hadn’t been much of a student, moving around as much as she had, but she remembers the history books about plagues and famines, affairs and regicide. “What did they die of?” she asks, thinking of those events that had seemed so far-off then.

Somehow Killian’s answer is sadder.

“Grief.” A pained look crosses his handsome face before he continues. “Their only daughter was cursed to sleep for eternity.”

“What? Like Sleeping Beauty?” she asks, startled by his description of a familiar tale.

“You’re the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming. You can’t be that surprised,” he gently mocks.

“Yeah but...it hasn’t been a week you know!”

“Aye, I suppose. But speaking of lost daughters, I wonder if...” Killian studies the banner again before heading back into the ruins of the castle.

“Hey, where are you going?” she shouts after him.

“What if she’s still here?” he calls over his shoulder.

Emma shakes her head. Even as a pirate, he’s still a white knight trying to help everyone. He’s still Killian Jones. She follows him to an open courtyard where a stone slab lays. He circles it.

“I don’t think you’ll find a girl here.”

“No, but this is still in pristine condition.”

Emma takes another look at it. A flash of color catches her eye and she stoops down at the base.

“See something, Swan?”

“Yeah,” she says, picking up what appears to be a silk scarf. “Something else in pristine shape.”

“She’s awake,” he breathes.

“But how? And where is she?” she asks as she looks around the empty and crumbling courtyard.

Killian walks in another circle but his gaze is on the ground.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for tracks.”

“On a stone floor?”

“Aye,” he says as he points toward a muddy footprint.

***

Initially, Emma can’t see what Killian sees. She can’t see the signs and tracks that lead them into the woods, that show there are three travelers, not just one, that indicate at least one of them has a weapon. But as he patiently points them out to her – different set of tracks, the long lines of a heavy dress being dragged in the dirt, broken branches and slashes on trees marking the path, she learns to see with a tracker’s eyes too.

“You’re a natural,” he smiles at her.

She feels herself blush under his praise.

“Like your mother.”

Emma scowls at that and finds herself increasing her pace.

“Is that a bad thing? She was known to be a great tracker,” Killian says, jogging a bit to keep up with her determined stride.

“Well good for her. She wasn’t a great mother.”

“Hey,” he asks, gently grasping her elbow with his hook.

She looks down in surprise and he quickly pulls his hook away and puts it behind his back. It reminds her of her first meeting with Killian, how he hid his disability in shame, and she tries to reach for his left arm but he sidesteps her. “Hey I don’t -”

“I know your mother wasn’t there when you were growing up but she thought she was giving you your best chance. Isn’t that what you did with Henry?”

“I didn’t have a choice! I was a teenager!” she shouts, the anger she had been keeping in coming out, at the wrong target. But the right target was never there, her parents, Neal, they always left her. “What was I supposed to do? At least THEY could’ve kept me!”

Emma doesn’t feel better for yelling but Killian doesn’t flinch. He gives her a moment before saying, “Sometimes, we try to make the best choices for the ones we love but sometimes we are wrong.”

“What did you do to Belle?” Emma asks, trying to deflect the conversation away from her and because, well, she just wants to know.

“To Belle?” Killian asks, his brows raising high. “Well, I uh...stocked only frosted blueberry Pop-Tarts during the curse.”

“So?”

“Her favorite is unfrosted strawberry.”

Emma makes a face and Killian laughs.

“Well that’s boring. Why did you do that?”

“Because frosted blueberry is MY favorite.”

Emma nods. “It’s mine too.”

“Is that so? Are you starting to believe in fate then?” he teases her.

“No,” Emma protests though her fingers curl around the foiled wrapper of the Pop-Tart in her pocket. Only earlier that day she had thought it hadn’t felt like a coincidence, not that first time, not this time either. She shakes her fanciful thoughts. “And what does that have to do with making the wrong choice with Belle?”

“I’ve never said I made the wrong choice with Belle. It’s perhaps one of the few right choices I’ve made in my life.”

It’s a sickening romantic thing to say. Emma turns and kicks at the dirt. “Well you said sometimes you make the wrong choices for the ones you love...”

“I wasn’t talking about Belle. Why did you think it was...” Killian eyes her and she feels herself blushing under his gaze.

“Do you think Belle and I’ve been courting?”

“Courting? What are you? A hundred years old?” she mutters.

“Closer to two hundred, love.”

“What?” Emma exclaims, eyes snapping back to his face.

“It’s okay, you can tell me how devilishly handsome I still am,” he smirks.

Emma thinks she has dealt with more than six impossible things before breakfast and that’s not fair. She doesn’t even want to know how he is that old. “So you’re not ‘courting’ Belle?” she asks instead.

Killian looks at her for another long moment and Emma feels herself physically bracing for the confirmation when he simply says, “no.”

She doesn’t comprehend it immediately. She’s spent the past week convinced Belle and Killian were romantically involved that she can’t get her mind around this new information. “But you saved her,” she finds herself protesting.

Killian chuckles but there is little mirth in it. “Just because we come from a fairytale land, Swan, it doesn’t mean we lived fairytale lives. I suppose that’s why cursed me enjoyed more unconventional stories, stories of personal transformation. Because we all make choices we wish we didn’t make, but it’s up to us to find the strength within ourselves to fix them. Like you did, with Henry.”

Emma looks back at Killian, at the melancholy frown in his brow that he’s always carried. “What was that choice, Killian?” she asks softly.

Killian sighs and looks away. He is silent for so long she doesn’t think he will answer her but finally he says, “I had a choice between revenge against the man who murdered my first love and fighting for her son.”

“And you made the wrong choice?”

“Aye, and I’ve been trying to make the right choice.”

“How?”

“He’s in the Land Without Magic. I aim to find him.”

“That’s what you meant earlier about getting to the Land Without Magic!” Emma gasps in realization. “You went on purpose!”

“Aye, he may not be my blood but he’s no less my son. Belle took that ride with me.”

“Because you two stick together,” Emma nods in understanding now. “And you stuck with me when I fell through.”

“What are friends for?” Killian shrugs, scratching the space behind his ear.

“They don’t generally jump into portals to unknown destinations for each other,” she deadpans.

“Well maybe we do things differently in the Enchanted Forest.”

Emma tries to hide her smile as she pulls out the Pop-Tart package from her pocket. She unwraps the foil and holds a frosted blueberry Pop-Tart out to him. “Well, I grew up in the Land Without Magic. There, we share with friends.”

Killian takes the proffered treat and bows his head in thanks.

“You know, Swan...I don’t know if Bae will ever forgive me for making the wrong choice all those years ago, but I hope he will at least give me a chance to be a family again. Just give it a thought, eh?”

Emma wants to tell Killian that it’s not like HER parents voluntarily crossed realms in a curse for her but she looks at his earnest expression and nods her assent. She can at least TRY. 

Seemingly satisfied, he turns towards his Pop-Tart.

“Hey, Killian.”

“Hmmm?” he looks back at her, mumbling around a mouthful of the packaged pastry.

She’s not good at this but if she’s going to TRY with her parents, she’s at least going to try with Killian. She may have messed up once but she can do this. Because when we love someone, we fix our mistakes right? “Uh…thank you for being there for me.”

It is not what she meant to say but Killian smiles widely. “Well I promised, didn’t I?”

Emma sighs and smiles back. “You know, I’m good at finding people. It’s what I used to do before coming to Storybrooke.”

Killian lifts his eyebrow in inquiry.

“I’m going to help you find your son, you’ll be a family again,” she promises him.

***

Emma’s feet are tired and sore.

“I would much prefer to travel by sea,” Killian mutters, pushing the foliage aside.

“Or by car.”

“A ship is still faster, love.”

“Not on land,” she counters.

They’ve been traveling for hours. Once they finished the Pop-Tarts, they had to rely on berries Killian could identify and water from a nearby stream.

“How do you think we’ll get back?”

“Where there’s a will there’s a way.”

“Oh c’mon, do you have that stitched on a pillow somewhere?” she snorts.

“I mean it, Swan. How do you think I was able to keep my name when the Dark Curse wiped away everyone’s memories?”

“Okay, how?” she asks, crossing her arms and glaring at him. In truth, she’s actually been quite curious.

Killian grins at her, like he knows he’s going to surprise her. “I am Killian Jones, I am Killian Jones.”

Emma raises a skeptical brow. “That easy, huh?”

“That simple, lass. NOT that easy.”

Emma laughs. No, it seems Killian Jones isn’t made from easy. He is made from hard choices, impossible tasks. “Hmm, I suppose not. Your will is stronger than magic, I guess?”

“How do you suppose you broke Rumplestiltskin’s hold on you back at the station?”

“You noticed that?” she asks, her eyebrows raising. She hadn’t thought about it much right after, Killian had barely been breathing, but she had wondered how she was able to do it. Rumplestiltskin had been distracted but wasn’t he supposed to be an all power Dark Lord sort of guy?

“I think we all noticed. He certainly did.”

“Well...there must be limits to his power,” she shrugs. It’s not like she understands much about magic. “I just wanted him to not kill you and the harder I pushed, the more it worked.”

“Still, be careful with him when we get back,” Killian warns.

“Shouldn’t you be worried? He’s already tried to kill you.”

Killian shakes his head. “I’m not his main concern. He came to the Land Without Magic for a reason. He’s looking for his son.”

“Are all lost kids thrown into the Land Without Magic or something?” Emma mutters. “How do you know your Bae is even in the Land Without Magic?”

“Because Rumplestiltskin is looking for him there,” Killian says grimly as they turn the corner and into the sharp ends of several swords. “Well it looks like we found our other travelers, Swan.”


	13. together

“Well that was invigorating,” Killian pants, leaning against a tree.

 

“Invigorating? Is being chases by ogres considered exercise in the Enchanted Forest?” Emma gapes at him.

 

“At least you’ve been exercising. I’ve been pushing a library cart for the past twenty-eight years. I think I’ve got a stitch in my side,” Killian replies as he presses a hand gingerly to his torso.

 

“Can you two be any louder? Or do you want to run from ogres again?” Mulan scolds as she comes up alongside them.

 

“I wouldn’t have shot off my gun if it wasn’t for Miss Happy Dagger over there anyway,” Emma hisses back at her just as Aurora emerges from the forest.

 

“Alright, ladies, there’s enough things out there trying to kill us. Let’s not do it for them, aye?” Killian asks as he steps in between them.

 

He gestures at the path ahead of them. “We are almost at the Charming castle. Can we keep our fists and daggers to ourselves until then?”

 

Emma grumbles her assent and Mulan gives a nod. They move ahead but Aurora stumbles.

 

“You’ve got to keep up,” Mulan says to her.

 

“Sorry, but I’m not exactly dressed for the woods. And it’s cold out here.”

 

“Then maybe you should’ve listened to me and stayed back at Safe Haven,” Mulan admonishes.

 

Emma snorts. She agrees with the warrior for once.

 

Killian sighs beside her and shrugs off his jacket. “Here.”

 

“But I just tried to kill you.”

 

“Well you wouldn’t be the first lass to try. And...I know what it’s like to lose someone you love.”

 

“How do you move on?”

 

“Ah well, like you, I tried the revenge thing first. So we can both check that off our list. Then I found things that gave me purpose. Helping us get home seems like a pretty noble cause if you ask me.”

 

“I guess so,” Aurora says warily.

 

Emma tries to ignore the twist in her stomach as Killian helps Aurora into his jacket. She has no right to feel anything about it. Thanks to her walls, her and Killian’s relationship had ended before the Curse was even broken. And while uncursed Killian is surprisingly not so different from cursed Killian, he is not exactly the same person she was dating either.

 

“It is. And you never know, you might meet someone new,” he smiles kindly at her.

 

“Phillip was my true love,” Aurora protests.

 

“Maybe we can have more than one.”

 

“Is that even possible?”

 

“I don’t know,” he admits with a soft shake of his head. “But I have hope.”

 

 

* * *

 

Killian speaks to Aurora the entire way there. She’s too far ahead to actually hear what they are saying to each other. But she catches the sad pitch in Aurora’s voice and the reassuring tone Killian uses.

 

Killian is good at this. Putting things in perspective. Lifting the spirits of downtrodden princesses across realms.

 

She isn’t surprised the one, two, or maybe three times she has looked over her shoulder to find Aurora drifting closer and closer to him.

 

Mulan clears her throat pointedly maybe the fourth time she looks back. “I know she’s not easy. She’s a princess after all but it’s been a tough few days for her. Let her borrow him for a couple of hours.”

 

Emma flushes at how obvious she’s been. But also, because Mulan is right. Aurora woke up to find her entire kingdom in ruins and only hours later, her True Love’s soul was taken by a wraith courtesy of Rumplestilskin and co. Never mind her plot to kill a pirate turned into an ogre chase. So pretty much no Happily Ever After even after True Love’s Kiss.

 

It makes Emma re-examine her feelings in the aftermath of her own True Love’s Kiss. She had been so caught up in what was taken away from her that she did not appreciate what was right in front of her.

 

She has finally found her parents. Henry is her True Love. And Killian...well, he jumped into a portal after her and that says a lot more than offering some princess a jacket.

 

They need to get back to Storybrooke.

 

 

* * *

 

Cora had made her uneasy from the very beginning. There was something about the calm even way she spoke that reminded her of a snake just waiting to strike. It didn’t help that they had met at the bottom of a pit at Safe Haven either. 

 

“She’s a devious one,” Killian had said. “We can’t trust her. Even Regina didn’t - she tried to hire me to kill her.”

 

She’s glad that Killian never went up against Cora before because right now the Queen of Hearts has him pinned against the nursery wall. Why are villains always the ones with magic? That hardly seems fair.

 

He’s goading Cora - she’s not sure if it’s on purpose or not - but knowing him as she does now, she thinks he is trying to give her a chance to escape. He gives her an urgent look and tilts his head towards the wardrobe. Yep, white knight and all. Or is it white pirate? Well, fuck that, she’s not leaving him behind and she sure is not going to take the chance that Cora will follow her to Storybrooke.

 

She lights the wardrobe on fire.

 

She slumps on the floor after Cora is gone. “I’m sorry I burned our only way home.” She feels Henry’s absence even more acutely looking at the ashes around her. “I know you need to get back, too.”

 

“It’s not the only way, Swan.” Killian says as he sits next to her on the floor. “C’mon, you’re a fairytale princess, you are supposed to believe in the impossible.”

 

“It’s kind of hard to believe in the impossible when I’m sitting on a pile of ash instead of a magical wardrobe,” she sniffs.

 

“Well, I believe,” he says as he picks up a handful of the remains, “this was just one way.” He lets it shift through his fingers. “We’ll find another way, aye?”

 

He holds his hand out to her. “Together, remember?”

 

She can’t help but smile. “Together,” she affirms as she places her hand in his.


	14. the climb

 

“Dark Curse, mirrors, magic slippers, mermaids...”

 

“Okay, which one of those is the easiest?”

 

“Arguably, the Dark Curse,” Killian sighs.

 

“How is that the easiest?” Emma raises her brow at that declaration. “Don’t you have to, you know...” Emma makes a face.

 

“Kill the one you love the most?” Killian finishes the question for her. “Aye, but there are limitations to the other methods. Mirrors will only send you to a specific realm. We would have to find the right one, if one to the Land Without Magic existed. Presumably not if Rumplestilskin went through all that trouble for the Dark Curse. Magical slippers are said to be in Oz. We would have to figure out how to realm hop at least twice.”

 

“Mermaids? Can’t the little mermaid help?”

 

Killian shoots her a mildly exasperated look. “I don’t know Ariel the little mermaid from that VHS collection you think you have well hidden under your bed.”

 

“Hey!”

 

“I dropped my pen once. It rolled,” Killian explains before forging on. “Anyway, most mermaids don’t have the power to transport other people across realms. Just themselves and the objects they carry.”

 

“Well you must know of some other sea creature that’s big enough to carry us,” Emma mutters, crossing her arms.

 

“Actually...”

 

She looks over at Killian. His forehead is furrowed in thought. She wants to lean forward and smooth the creases as she had done before. But she can’t. They are no longer together. And he’s not exactly the same man either, she tries to tell herself. Even though she knows, at his heart, he is the same Killian Jones who has been there for her.

 

“Swan? _Swan?_ ”

 

Emma startles and sees Killian is looking at her.

 

“Have you heard anything I’ve said?”

 

“Ermfh, other sea creature?”

 

Killian gives her a skeptical look but thankfully doesn’t question her further. “Kraken’s blood can be used to cross realms but we need something to help navigate us back to Storybrooke or we may get lost between realms.”

 

“That doesn’t sound good.”

 

“Trust me, it isn’t. You can lose track of yourself and time if you get stuck in the wrong realm. There were rumors when we were last here of an enchanted compass that could lead you to what you most desired. It was something I considered acquiring myself before I learned of Regina’s plan to cast the Dark Curse.”

 

“Okay, so where do we get this compass from?”

 

“Fee-fi-fo-fom this time, love.”

 

“Giants?”

 

“That’s right. Giants and then sea creature hunting.”

 

“Alright, maybe casting the Dark Curse is easier,” Emma groans.

 

“Where’s your sense of adventure, love?” Killian grins at her mischievously. There’s even a twinkle in his eye.

 

Somehow she already knows what he is about to say. “Don’t,” she warns.

 

“C’mon, Swan, let’s get Kraken!”

 

Emma snorts, trying to cover up a laugh. But she’s not very successful.

 

* * *

 

The beanstalk stretches up far into the clouds.

 

“You spent all day in the library and this was the best you could come up with?”

 

“I always took you for an optimist, Mulan,” Killian smiles.

 

The warrior throws him a no nonsense look.

 

Killian merely shrugs in return. “Well why don’t you get comfortable? Hopefully it won’t take me more than a few hours.”

 

“Wait, you aren’t going up there by yourself, are you?” Emma asks with concern.

 

Killian waves his hook. “I’m the best equipped to climb this and I’ve been in my fair share of battles.”

 

“So have I. I will go with you,” Mulan says, stepping forward.

 

“No, it should be me,” Aurora states to the group’s surprise. “I have no loved ones. If I fail, the rest of you can go on.”

 

Killian sighs. “Now we’ve talked about this, lass. You can’t give up hope so easily.”

 

He puts a comforting hand on Aurora’s shoulder and Emma tries not to frown too much. By the look Mulan is giving her, she’s not exactly successful.

 

“I can’t help it. After everything that has happened,” Aurora sniffs. “I want to be useful at least.”

 

“Aye, I understand that. There shall be another opportunity. There’s always more to come in life, savvy?”

 

“Um, savvy?” She seems confused by the phrase but smiles at him.

 

“So I’ll go with Killian,” Mulan reasserts when Killian steps back from Aurora.

 

“No, I’m going. I’m the most motivated. Or, as motivated,” Emma amends, nodding towards Killian. “We are the ones that need to get back. And,” she glares at Killian. “We are doing this together. As you promised.”

 

Killian lifts his hand and hook up in surrender. “Aye, you’re right, we will do this together.”

 

* * *

 

“First beanstalk?”

 

“Really?”

 

“You know what they say. You never forget your first.”

 

Emma snorts. “You and your dad jokes.”

 

“You love them,” Killian chuckles. “And did it stop you from looking down the umpteenth time?”

 

“This is really high,” Emma grumbles as she reaches for the next vine. She’s actually climbing a gigantic beanstalk. What is her life?

 

“I was happy to do it on my own,” Killian reminds her.

 

“Nope, you can’t go off doing hero stuff by yourself. We stick together,” Emma grunts as she tries to find the right footing.

 

Killian nimbly moves under her and gives her a boost.

 

“Really?”

 

“I’ve climbed many ship masts in my day.”

 

He smiles up at her but it’s not just any smile. She knows his different smiles.

 

“What?”

 

“What do you mean what?” he asks as he smoothly swings back up to her level.

 

“You seem rather pleased with yourself,” Emma accuses once they are eye to eye.

 

“Actually I’m pleased for you.”

 

“For me?” she raises her eyebrows.

 

“You said ‘we stick together.’ It’s not every day Emma Swan is willing to let someone in.”

 

“I let you in before. The old you,” Emma says dismissively.

 

“Oh, is that what you called that?” Killian grunts, a dark edge in his voice. Emma turns her head to look at him but he’s climbing faster than her now.

 

He’s right, of course. She never really let Killian in. She wouldn’t even acknowledge their relationship to herself. “I was in love once,” she blurts out.

 

Killian pauses. He turns and looks down at her. “Pardon?”

 

“I was in love once. But he betrayed me.”

 

“Henry’s father?”

 

Emma nods, unable to give voice to her pain or his name.

 

Killian slides back down the beanstalk on his hook. “You don’t have to. But you can tell me.”

 

Emma gives him a watery smile. “You have a sad tale too, sailor?”

 

Killian holds on with his hook while offering out his right arm. She knows what he is showing her. The tattoo. With the name Milah scrolled across it and a dagger piercing a heart in the background. Cursed Killian got it because Milah had asked him to. She and Liam then ridiculed him for getting it. He hadn’t known his brother was dating Milah at the time. Emma had been so angry for him she punched the mattress just because she needed something to hit.

 

“Milah,” Emma breathes. “She was real.”

 

“Aye. She was the love of my life. Until her husband caught up to us and ripped her heart out.”

 

“Her husband? Rumplestilskin?” Emma asks as she connects the dots.

 

Killian nods. “Regina gave me a twisted sad tale but in some ways, she could not have made the story worse than what I actually experienced. I know about love and lost already.”

 

Emma glances above her. They still have a ways to go to get above the clouds. She takes a deep breath.  “Tell me your story, Killian. And I’ll tell you mine.”

**Author's Note:**

> *Title from J.M. Barrie's Peter Pan.
> 
> **Disclaimer: I don't own anything or make any profit from this work. Characters and some dialogue from the show.
> 
> *** And oh yeah, I'm going to address why he's still Killian Jones even when cursed.


End file.
